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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiquds 

1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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□ 

n 

n 

D 
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n 


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1 

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l\ 

d 
e 
b 

ri 
r( 
n 


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m 


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Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  inidiqui  <  t-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

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26X 

30X 

/ 

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24X 


28X 


32X 


ails 

du 

idifier 

une 

lage 


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empreinte. 

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dernidre  image  de  chaque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symboie  -^  signifie  'A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


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Id 


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A      -  '"' 


LOST  LN 


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JAMES    DE    MILLE. 

AUTHOR    OF   "THK    B.  O.  W.   O.,"    "  TllK    BOYS 

SCHOOL,"   KTC. 


OF    GRAND    Pr4 


y. 


■I. 

h 
U. 


Q 


ILILVSTRATED. 


I30ST0N : 
LEE    AND    SIIEPATJ7).    PUBLISHERS, 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870, 
Bv  LEE  AND  SIIEPARD, 
In  the  Oftice  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washing, 


on- 


t 


t 


CONTENTS. 


I. 


PAGE 


Old  Acquaintances  gather  around  old  Scenes.- Antelope 
akoyl-Uou,  are  you,  Solomon?  -  Roundabout  Plan 
of  a  roundabout  Voyage.  _  ne  Doaor  u,arns,  rebukes 
and  remonstrates,  but,  alas  /  in  ,ain.  -  /,  „,„,,  ,,  ^„„; 
-  J^'^a'm.ngof  a  kiyhlyevcnt/ul  Voyage.      .         .         .     „ 

11. 

rirstSig,t  of  a  Place  destined  to  be  better  kno.n.  -  A  Fog 
Mill.  -  Navigation  without  Wind.  -  Fishing.  ~  Board, 
^ng.  ~  Under  Arrest.  -  Captain  Corbet  defiant.  -  The 
^«'««  OJicials  frowned  down.  -  Corbet  triun.phant.   .    n 

III. 

Solon^on  surpasses  Mu,seV.  -  A  i'eriod  of  Joy  ,,  ,,„„.„„, 
followed  by  a  Time  of  Sorrow.  -  aioon.y  Forebodings. 
-  r,u  Legend  of  Petticoat  Jack.  -  Captain  Corbet  dis- 
courses  of  the  JJaugers  of  the  Beep,  andputs  in  Practice 
"<"«  and  original  Mode  of  Navigation.         ...    44 


.  ,11*1  i.iwii|iwj«;i>i!!nn, 


6  CONTENTS. 

IV. 

In  Clouds  and  Darkness.  — A  terrible  Warning. —  Nearly 
run  down.  —  A  lively  Place.  —  Bart  encounters  an  old 
Acquaintance.  —  Launched  into  the  Deep.  —  Through 
the  Country.  —  The  swift  Tide.  —  The  lost  Boy.      .         .     58 

V. 

A  Cry  of  Horror.  —  What  shall  we  do  ?  —  Hard  and  fast. 

—  Bart  and  Bruce.  —  Gloomy  Intelligence.  —  The  Prom- 
ontory. —  The  Bore  of  the  Peiitcodiac.  —  A  Night  of 
Misery.  —  A  mournful  Waking.  —  Taking  Counsel.       .     73 

VI. 

Tom  adrift.  —  The  receding  Shores.  —  The  Paddle.  —  The 
Roar  of  Surf.  —  The  Fog  Horn.  —  The  Thunder  of  the 
unseen  Breakers.  —  A  Horror  of  great  Darkness.  — 
Adrift  in  Fog  and  Night 88 

VII. 

Lost  in  the  Fog.  — The  Shoal  and  its  Rocks.  — Is  it  a  Reef? 

—  The   Truth.  —  Hoisting    Sail.  —  A  forlorn  Hope.  — 
Wild  Steering.  —  Where  am  I  ?  —  Land,  ho  !  .         .         .  101 

VIII. 

Off  in  Search.  —  Eager  Outlook.  —  Nothing  but  Fog,  — 
Speaking  a  Schooner.  —  Pleasant  Anecdotes.  — Cheer  up. 

—  The  Heart  of  Corbet. 115 


CONTENTS. 


IX. 


Awake  once  more Where  are  we  ?  —  The  giant  Cliff.  — 

Out  to  Sea.  —  Anchoring  and  Drifting.  —  The  Harbor. 

—  The  Search.  —  No  Answer.  —  Where's  Solomon  *        .   129 

X. 

Torn  ashore.  —  Storm  at  Night.  —  Up  in  the  Morning.  — 
The  Cliffs  and  the  Beach.  —  A  startling  Discovery.  —  A 
desert  Island.  —  A  desperate  Effort.  —  Afloat  again.       .   144 

XI. 

Afloat  again.  —  The  rushing  Water.  —  Down  to  the  Bot- 
tom. —Desperate  Circumstances.  —Can  they  he  remedied  ? 

—  New  Hopes  and  Plans. 258 

XII. 

Waiting  for  high  Water.  —  A  Trial.  —  A  new  Discovery. 

—  Total     Failure.  —  Down    again.  —  Overboard.  —  A 
Struggle  for  Life Uj 

XIII. 

Where's  Solomon?  —  An  anxious  Search.  —  The  Beach.  — 
The  cavernous  Cliffs,  —  Up  the  Precipice.  —  Along  the 
Shore.  —  Back  for  Boats 184 

xiy. 

Back  again.  —  Calls  and  Cries.  —  Captain  Corbet's  Yell.  — 
A  significant  Sign.  —  The  old  llat.  —  The  return  Cry. 
—  The  Boat  rounds  the  Point.         .....  197 


^^ 


8 


CONTENTS. 


XV. 

Exploring  Juan  Fernandez.  —  The  Cliffs.  —  The  tangled 
Underbrush.  —  The  Fog  Bank.  —  Is  it  coming  or  going  ? 
—  The  Steamer.  —  Vain  Appeals.  — New  Flans.    .        .211 

XVI. 

A  Sign  for  the  outer  World.  —  A  Shelter  for  the  Outcast's 
Head.  —  Tom's  Camp  and  Camp-bed.  —  A  Search  after 
Something  to  vary  a  too  monotonous  Diet.  —  Brilliant 
Success. 224 

XVII. 

Solomon's  solemn  Tale.  —  A  costly  Lobster.  —  Off  again.  — 
Steam  Whistles  of  all  Sizes.  —  A  noisy  Harbor. —  Ar- 
rival Home.  —  No  News 237 

XVIII. 

Dow.v  the  Bay.  —  Drifting  and  Anchoring.  —  In  the  Dark, 
morally  and  physically.  —  Eastport,  the  jumping-off 
Place.  —  Grand  Manan.  —  Wonderful  Skill.  —  Navigat- 
ing in  the  Fog.  —  A  Plunge  from  Darkness  into  Light, 
and  from  Light  into  Darkness. 250 


XIX. 

Tom's  Devijes.  —  Rising  superior  to  Circumstances.  — 
Roast  Clams. — Baked  Lobster.  —  Boiled'  Mussels. — 
Boiled  Shrimps.  —  Roast  Eggs.  —  Dandelions.  —  Ditto, 
with  Eggs.  —  Roast  Dulse.  —  Strawberries.  —  Pilot- 
bread.  —  Strawberry  Cordial. 264 


CONTENTS. 


9 


XX. 

New  Discoveries.  -  The  Boat.  ~  A  great  Swell.  ~  Medita- 
tions and  Plans.  -  A  new,  and  wonderful,  and  before 
unheard-of  Application  of  Spruce  Gum.  -  Pm  afloat ! 


I'm  afloat ! 


.  277 


XXI. 

ScotVs  Bay  and  Old  Bennie.  -  His  two  Theories.  -  Off  to 
the  desert  Island.  -  Landing.  _  A  Picnic  Ground.  _ 
Gloom  and  Despair  of  the  Explorers.  -  All  over.  -  Sud- 

den  Summons. 

200 

XXII. 

.istounding  Discovery.  -  The  whole  Party  of  Explorers 
overwhelmed.  -  Meeting  with  the  Lost  -  Captain  Corbet 
improves  the  Occasion.  ~  Conclusion 304 


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LOST  IN  THE  FOG. 


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I. 


Old  Acquaintances  gather  around  old  Scenes.  —  An- 
telope, ahoy !  —  Jfoiu  are  you,  Solomon  ?  —  Hound- 
ahout  Plan  of  a  round  about  Voyage. —  IVie 
Doctor  ivarns,  rebukes,  and  remonstrates,  but,  alas  ! 
in  vain.  —  It  must  be  done.  —  Beginning  of  a 
highly  eventful  Voyage, 


5PT  was  a  beautiful  morning,  in  the  month  of 
J*  '^^^b'j  ^^''icn  a  crowd  of  boys  assembled  on  tlio 
wharf  of  Grand  Pre.  Tlie  tide  was  high,  tlie 
turbid  waters  of  Mud  Creek  flowed  around,  a 
fresh  breeze  blew,  and  if  any  craft  was  going  to 
Hca  she  could  not  have  found  a  better  time.  The 
crowd  consisted  chiefly  of  boys,  though  a  few  men 
were  mingled  with  them.  '  These  boys  were  from 
Grand  Pre  School,  and  are  all  old  acquaintances. 
There  was  the  stalwart  frame  of  Bruce,  the  Roman 

(11) 


12 


LOST    IN   THE   B'OG. 


face  of  Arthur,  tlie  bright  eyes  of  Bart,  the  slender 
frame  of  Pliil,  and  the  earnest  glance  of  Tom. 
There,  too,  was  Pat's  merry  smile,  and  the  stolid 
look  of  Bogud,  and  the  meditative  solenniity  of 
Jiggins,  not  to  speak  of  others  whose  names  need 
not  be  mentioned.  Amid  the  crowd  the  face  of 
Ci4)taiii  Corbet  v/as  conspicuous,  and  the  dark  vis- 
age of  Solomon,  while  that  of  the  mate  was  distin- 
guishable in  the  distance.  To  all  these  the  good 
schooner  Antelope  formed  the  centre  of  attraction, 
and  also  of  action.  It  was  on  board  of  her  that 
the  chief  bustle  took  place,  and  towards  her  that 
all  eves  were  turned. 

The  good  schooner  Antelope  had  made  several 
voyages  during  the  past  few  months,  and  now  pi'c- 
sented  herself  to  the  eye  of  the  spectator  not  much 
changed  from  her  former  self.  A  fine  fresh  coat 
of  coal  tar  had  but  recently  ornaiuented  her  fair 
exterior,  while  a  coat  of  whitewash  inside  the  hold 
had  done  nuicli  to  <\y\\o  away  the  odor  of  the  fra- 
grant potato.  Rigging  and  sails  had  been  repaired 
as  well  as  circumstances  would  permit,  and  in  the 
opinion  of  her  gallant  captain  she  was  eminently 
seawortliy. 

On  the  present  occasion  things  bore  the  appear- 
ance of  a  voyage.  Trunks  were  passed  on  board 
and  put  below,  together  with  coats,  cloaks,  bedding, 
and  baskets  of  provisions.  Tiie  deck  was  strewn 
about  with  the  nudtifarious  reipiisites  of  a  ship's 
comjiany.     The  Antelope,  at  that  time,  seemed  in 


t 


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ANTELOPE,   ahoy! 


13 


the 


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WU 

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in 


part  an  emigrant  vessel,  with  a  dash  of  the  yacht 
and  tlie  coasting  schooner. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this,  two  gentlemen  worked 
their  way  through  the  crowd  to  the  edge  of  the 
wliarf. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  one,  '^  well,  captain,  what's 
the   moaning  of  all  this  ? " 

Captain  Corbet  started  at  this,  and  looked  np 
irom  a  desperate  ellbrt  to  secure  the  end  of  one  of 
the  sails. 

"  Why,  Dr.  Porter  !  "  said  ho ;  "  why,  doctor  1 
—  liow  d'ye  do  ?  —  and  Mr.  Long,  too  !  —  why, 
railly ! " 

The  boys  also  stopped  their  work,  and  looked 
towards  their  teachers  with  a  little  uneasiness. 

"What's  all  this?"  said  Dr.  Porter,  looking 
around  with  a  smile  ;  "  are  you  getting  up  another 
expedition  ?  " 

"  Wal,  no,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  not  'xactly ; 
fact  is,  we're  kine  o'  goin  to  take  a  vyge  deoun  the 
bay." 

''  Down  the  bay  ?  " 

"  Yea.  You  see  the  boys  kino  o'  want  to  go 
home  by  water,  rayther  than  l)y  land." 

"  By  water  I  Home  by  water  !  "  repeated  Mr. 
Long,  doubtfully. 

"  Yes,"  said  Captain  Corbet ;  "  an  bein  as  the 
schewner  was  in  good  repair,  an  corked,  an  coal- 
tarred,  an  whitewashed  up  fust  rate,  T  kine  o^ 
thought  it  would  redound  to  our  mootooil  benefit 


"^T- 


14 


LOST   IN   THE    FOG. 


if  WG  went  off  on  sich  a  excursion,  —  bein  pleas- 
antcr,  cheaper,  conifortabler,  an  every  way  prefer- 
able to  a  land  tower." 

''  Hem,"  said  Dr.  Porter,  looking  uneasily  about. 
''  T  don't  altogether  like  it.  Boys,  what  does  it 
all  mean  ?  " 

Thus  appealed  to,  Bart  became  spokesman  for 
the  boys. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  he,  "  wo  tlionght  we'd  like  to 
go  home  by  water  —  that's  all." 

"  Go  home  by  water  ! "  repeated  the  doctor  once 
more,  with  a  curious  smile. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What?  by  the  Bay  of  Fundy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Who  are  going  ?  " 

''  Well,  sir,  there  are  only  a  few  of  ua.  Bruce, 
and  Arthur,  and  Tom,  and  Phil,  and  Pat,  besides 
myself." 

"  Bruce  and  Arthur  ?  "  said  the  doctor ;  "  are 
they  going  homo  by  the  Bay  of  Fundy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Bart,  with  a  smile. 

''  T  don't  see  how  they  can  got  to  the  Gulf  of  St. 
Lawrence  and  Prince  Edward's  Island  from  the 
Bay  of  Fundy,"  said  tlie  doi^tor,  ''  witliout  going 
round  Nova  Scotia,  and  that  will  be  a  journey  of 
many  hundred  miles." 

"  O,  no,  sir,"  said  Bruce ;  "  we  are  going  first  to 
Moncton." 

"0,  is  that  the  idea?" 


A  ROUNDABOUT  VOYA(JE. 


Ifj 


ICS 


it 


"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  where  will  you  go  from  Monctoii  ?  " 

"  To  Shediac,  a.nd  then  home." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  Newfoundland  by  that 
route,  Tom  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Tom,  gravely. 

"  From  Shediac  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  never  knew  before  that  there  were  vessels 
going  from  Shediac  to  Newfoundland." 

'*  0,  I'm  going  to  Prince  Edward's  Island  first, 
sir,  with  Bruce  and  Arthur,"  said  Tom.  "  I'll  find 
my  way  home  from  there." 

The  doctor  smiled. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  it  a  long  journey  before 
you  reach  home.  Won't  your  friends  be  anx- 
ious ?  " 

"  0,  no,  sir.  I  wrote  that  I  wanted  to  visit  Bruce 
and  Arthur,  and  they  gave  me  leave." 

"  And  you,  Phil,  are  you  going  home  by  the 
Antelope  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  are  going  exactly  in  a  straight  line  away 
from  it." 

"Am  I,  sir?" 

'^  Of  course  you  are.  This  isn't  the  way  to 
Cliester." 

"  Well,  sir,  you  see  I'm  going  to  visit  Bart  at 
St.  John." 

"  0, 1  understand.    And  that  is  your  plan,  then  ?  " 


16 


LOST   IN  THE   POG. 


ii 


OS,  sir, 


V 


,  ^..,    said  Bart.     *' Pat  is  going  too." 

"  Where  are  you  going  first  ?  " 

"  First,  sir,  we  will  sail  to  the  Petitcodiac  River, 
and  go  up  io  as  far  as  Moncton,  where  Bruce,  and 
Arthur,  and  Tom  will  leave  us." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  Then  we  will  go  to  St.  John,  where  Phil,  and 
Pat,  and  I  will  leave  her.  Solomon,  too,  will  leave 
her  there." 

"  Solomon  !  "  cried  the  doctor.  "  What !  Solo- 
mon !  Is  Solomon  going  ?  Why,  what  can  I  do 
without  Solomon  ?  Here  !  —  Hallo  !  —  Solomon  ! 
What  in  the  world's  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  " 

Thus  summoned,  Solomon  came  forth  from  the 
cabin,  into  w^hich  he  had  dived  at  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  doctor.  His  eyes  were  downcast,  his 
face  was  demure,  his  attitude  and  manner  were 
a,bject. 

"  Solomon,"  said  the  doctor,  "  what's  this  I  hear? 
Are  you  going  to  St.  John  ?  " 

"  Ony  temp'ly,  sah  — jist  a  leetle  visit,  sah,"  said 
Solomon,  very  humbly,  stealing  looks  at  the  boys 
from  his  downcast  eyes. 

"  But  what  makes  you  go  off  this  way  without 
asking,  or  letting  me  know  ?  " 

"  Did  I,  sah  ?  "  said  Solomon,  rolling  his  eyes  up 
as  though  horrified  at  his  own  wickedness ;  "  the 
sakes  now  !     Declar,  T  clean  forgot  it." 

"  What  are  you  going  away  for?" 

"  Why,  sail,  fur  de  good  ob  my  helf.     Docta  vises 


.K- 


HOW    ARE   YOU,   SOLOMON? 


17 


said 
boys 

Lhout 


;s  up 
l«the 


visea 


sea  vyge  ;  sides,  1  got  Irens  in  St.  John,  an  busi- 
ness dar,  what  muss  be  tended  to." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  suppose  if  you 
want  to  go  you'll  find  reasons  enough ;  but  at  the 
same  time  you  ouglit  to  have  let  me  knowii  before." 

"  Darsn't,  sah,"  said  Solomon.  ^ 

''  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Fraid  you'd  not  let  me  go,"  said  Solomon,  with 
a  broad  grin,  that  instantly  was  suppressed  by  a 
demure  cough. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  doctor ;  and  then  turning 
awiiy,  he  spoke  a  few  words  apart  with  Mr.  Long. 

''  Well,  boys,"  said  the  doctor,  at  last,  "  this  pro- 
ject of  yours  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  be  altogether 
safe,  and  I  don't  like  to  trust  you  in  this  way  with- 
out anybody  as  a  responsible  guardian." 

Bart  smiled. 

''  O,  sir,"  said  he,  "  you  need  not  be  at  all  uneasy. 
All  of  us  are  accustomed  to  take  care  of  ourselves ; 
and  besides,  if  you  wanted  a  responsible  guardian 
for  us,  what  better  one  could  bo  found  than  Cap- 
tain Corbet  ?  " 

Tiie  docte)r  and  Mr.  Long  both  shook  their  heads. 
Kvidontly  neither  of  them  attached  any  great  im- 
[lortance  to  Captain  Corbet's  guardianship. 

"  Did  you  tell  your  father  how  you  were  going?" 
asked  the  doctor,  after  a  few  further  words  with 
Mr.  Long. 

"  0,  yes,  sir  ;  and  he  told  me  I  might  go.  What's 
niore,  he  promised  to  charter  a  schooner  for  me  to 


4 


X. 


/ 


•^J 


18 


V 


OST    IN   THE   FOG. 


V  qrp^He  ,ii%iiit  with  Phil  and  Pat  after  I  arrived 
"IranTe?'' 

"  And  we  got  permission,  too/'  said  Bruce. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  tlie  doctor.  "  That  clianges  the 
appearance  of  things.  I  was  ai'raid  tliat  it  was  a 
wliim  of  your  own.  And  now,  one  thing  more, — 
how  are  you  off  for  provisions  ?  " 

'^  Wal,  sir,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  Pvo  made  my 
calculations,  an  I  think  Pve  got  enough.  What  I 
might  fail  in,  the  boys  and  Solomon  have  made  up." 

"  ITow  is  it,  Solomon  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

Solomon  grinned. 

"  You  sleep  in  the  hold,  I  see,"  continued  the 
doctor, 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Bruce.  "  It's  whitewashed,  and 
quite  sweet  now.  We'll  only  be  on  board  two  or 
three  days  at  the  farthest,  and  so  it  really  doesn't 
much  matter  how  we  go." 

"  Well,  boys,  I  have  no  more  to  say ;  only  take 
care  of  yoursalves." 

With  these  words  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Long  bade 
them  good  by,  and  then  walked  away. 

The  other  boys,  however,  stood  on  the  wharf, 
waiting  to  see  the  vessel  off.  They  themselves 
were  all  going  to  start  for  home  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  were  only  waiting  for  the  departure  of  the 
Antelope. 

This  could  not  now  be  long  delayed.  The  tide 
was  high.  The  wind  fresh  and  fair.  The  luggage, 
and  provisions,  and  stores  were  all  on  board.     Cap- 


W' 


\  ^^ 


BEOTNNTXG    OF  THE   VOYAGE. 


19 


larf, 

Ives 
ites, 
ithe 

tide 
ige, 


taiii  Corbet  was  at  the  helm.  All  was  ready.  At 
length  the  word  was  given,  the  lines  were  cast  off, 
and  the  Antelope  moved  slowly  round,  and  left  the 
wharf  amid  the  cheers  of  the  bovs.  Farther  and 
farther  it  moved  away,  then  down  the  tortuous 
chiuniel  of  Mud  Creek,  until  at  last  the  broad  ex- 
piinse  of  Minas  Basin  received  them. 

For  this  voyage  the  prepai-ations  had  been  com- 
plete. It  had  first  been  thought  of  several  weeks 
before,  and  then  the  plan  and  the  details  had  been 
slowly  elaborated.  Tt  was  thought  to  be  an  excel- 
lent idea,  and  one  which  was  in  every  respect 
worthy  of  the  "  B.  0.  W.  C."  Captain  Corbet  em- 
braced the  proposal  with  enthusiasm.  Letters  home, 
requesting  permission,  received  favorable  answers. 
Solomon  at  first  resisted,  but  finally,  on  being 
solemnly  appealed  to  as  Grand  Panjandrum,  ho 
found  himself  unable  to  withstand,  and  thus  every- 
thing was  gradually  prei)ared.  Other  details  were 
satisfactoril}"  arranged,  though  not  without  much 
serious  and  earnest  debate.  The  question  of  cos- 
tume received  very  careful  attention,  and  it  was 
decided  to  adopt  and  wear  the  weather-beaten 
uniforms  that  had  done  service  amidst  mud  and 
water  on  a  former  occasion.  Solomon's  presence 
was  folt  to  be  a  security  against  any  menacing 
famine ;  and  that  assurance  was  made  d(uibly  sure 
by  the  presence  of  a  cooking  stove,  which  Captain 
Corbet,  mindful  of  former  hardships,  had  thought- 
lully  procured  and  set  up  in  the  hold.     Finally,  it 


■""* 


20 


LOST  IN  THE   FOG. 


was  decided  that  tlie  flag  which  liad  formerly 
flaunted  the  breeze  should  again  wave  over  them ; 
and  so  it  was,  that  as  the  Antelope  moved  through 
Mud  Creek,  like  a  thing  of  life,  the  black  flag  of 
the  "  B.  0.  W.  C."  floated  on  high,  witli  its  blazonry 
of  a  skull,  which  now,  worn  by  time,  looked  more 
than  ever  like  the  face  of  some  mild,  venerable, 
and  ])aternal  monitor. 

Some  time  was  taken  up  in  arranging  the  hold. 
Considerable  confusion  was  manifest  in  that  impor- 
tant locality.  Tin  pans  were  intermingled  with 
bedding,  provisions  with  wearing  apparel,  books 
with  knives  and  forks,  while  amid  the  scene  the 
cooking  stove  towered  aloft  prominent.  To  tell 
the  truth,  the  scene  was  rather  free  and  easy  than 
elegant ;  nor  could  an  unprejudiced  observer  have 
called  it  altogether  comfortable.  In  fact,  to  one 
who  looked  at  it  with  a  philosophic  mind,  an  air  of 
scpialor  might  possibly  have  been  detected.  Yet 
what  of  that?  The  philosophic  mind  just  alluded 
to  would  have  overlooked  the  squalor,  and  regarded 
rather  the  health,  the  buoyant  animal  spirits,  and 
the  determined  habit  of  enjoyment,  which  all  tlie 
ship's  company  evinced,  without  exception.  The 
first  thing  which  they  did  in  the  way  of  prepara- 
tion for  the  voyage  was  to  doff  the  garments  of 
civilized  life,  and  to  don  the  costume  of  the  "  B.  0. 
W.  C."  Those  red  shirts,  decorated  with  a  huge 
white  cross  on  the  back,  had  been  washed  and 
mended,  and  completely  reconstructed,  so  that  the 


1 


ARRANCJEMKNTS    ON    BOARD. 


it 


rents  and  patclies  wliiclj  were  liero  and  tliorc  visi- 
ble on  their  fair  exteriors,  served  as  mementos  of 
former  exploits,  and  ealled  up  associations  of  the 
past  witliout  at  all  deteriorating  frcjm  the  striking 
ed'ect  of  the  present.  Glengary  bonnets  adorned 
their  heads,  and  served  to  complete  the  costume. 

The  labor  of  dressing  was  followed  by  a  hurried 
arrangement  of  the  trunks  and  bedding;  after 
which  tiiey  all  emerged  from  the  hold,  and  ascend- 
ing to  the  deck,  looked  around  ui)()n  the  scene. 
Above,  the  sky  was  blue  and  cloudless,  and  be- 
tween them  and  the  blue  sky  floated  the  flag,  from 
whose  folds  the  face  looked  benignantly  down. 
The  tide  was  now  on  the  ebb,  and  as  the  wind  was 
fair,  both  wind  and  tide  united  to  bear  them  rapidly 
onward.  Before  them  was  Blomidon,  while  all 
around  was  the  circling  sweep  of  the  shores  of 
Minas  Bay.  A  better  day  for  a  start  could  not 
have  been  found,  and  everything  promised  a  rapid 
and  pleasant  run. 

"  I  must  say,"  remarked  Captain  Corbet,  who  had 
for  some  time  been  standing  buried  in  his  own 
meditations  at  the  helm,  —  "I  must  say,  boys,  that  I 
don't  altogether  regret  bein  once  more  on  the  briny 
deep.  There  was  a  time,"  he  contiiuied,  medita- 
tively, "  when  I  kinc  o'  anticipated  givin  up  this 
here  occypation,  an  stayin  to  hum  a  nourishin  of 
the  infant.  But  man  proposes,  an  woman  disposes, 
as  the  sayin  is,  —  an  y^u  see  what  Pm  druv  to. 
It's  a  great  thing  for  a  man  to  have  a  companion 


90 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


of  sperrit,  same  as  I  have,  that  keeps  a  drivin  an 
a  drivin  at  him,  and  makes  liim  be  up  an  doin.  An 
now,  I  declar,  if  I  ain't  gittin  to  be  a  confiiiiied 
wanderer  agin,  same  as  I  was  in  tlie  days  of  my 
halcyon  an  sliinin  youtli.  Besides,  1  have  a  kine  o' 
feelin  as  if  I'd  be  a  contincwin  this  here  the  rest 
of  all  my  born  days." 

"  1  hope  you  won't  feel  homesick,"  remarked 
Bart,  sympathetically. 

"  Homesick,"  repeated  the  captain.  "  Wal,  you 
see  thar's  a  good  deal  to  be  said  about  it.  In  my 
hum  thar's  a  attraction,  but  thar's  also  a  repulsion. 
The  infant  drors  me  hum,  the  wife  of  my  buzzwm 
drives  me  away,  an  so  thar  it  is,  an  I've  got  to 
knock  under  to  the  strongest  power.  An  that's 
the  identical  individool  thing  that  makes  the  aged 
Corbet  a  foogitive  an  a  vagabond  on  the  face  of 
the  mighty  deep.     Still  I  have  my  consolations." 

The  captain  paused  for  a  few  Inoments,  and  then 
resumed. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  my  consolations. 
Surroundins  like  these  here  air  a  consolation.  I 
like  j'^our  young  faces,  an  gay  an  airy  ways,  boys. 
I  like  to  see  you  enjoy  life.  So,  go  in.  Pitch  in. 
Go  ahead.  Sing.  Shout.  Go  on  like  mad.  Carry 
on  like  all  possessed,  an  you'll  find  the  aged  Corbet 
smilin  amid  the  din,  an  a  flutterin  of  his  venerable 
locks  triumphant  amid  the  ragin  an  riotin  ele- 
ments." 

"  It's  a  comfort  to  know  that,  at  any  rate,"  said 


I 


REFLECTIOiNS   OF   CAPTAIN   COUBET. 


23 


Tom.  ''  We'll  give  yon  enough  of  that  before  we 
leave,  especially  as  we  know  it  don't  annoy  you." 

''  I  don't  know  how  it  is,"  said  the  captain,  sol- 
emnly, "  but  I  begin  to  feel  a  sort  of  somethin 
towards  you  youngsters  that's  very  absorbin.  It's 
a  kine  o'  anxious  fondness,  witli  a  mixtoor  of  indul- 
g(uit  tenderness.  How  ever  I  got  to  contract  sech 
a  feolin  beats  me.  I  s'pose  it's  boin  deprived  of 
my  babby,  an  exiled  from  home,  an  so  my  vacant 
buzzom  craves  to  be  filled.  I've  got  a  dreadful 
talent  for  doin  the  pariential,  an  what's  more,  not 
only  for  doin  the  pariential,  but  for  feelin  of  it.  So 
you  boys,  ef  ever  you  see  me  a  doin  of  the  pariential 
towards  youns,  please  remember  that  when  I  act 
like  an  anxious  an  too  indulgent  parient  towards 
youns,  it's  because  I  feel  like  one." 

For  some  hours  the}^  traversed  the  waters,  carried 
swiftly  on  by  the  united  forces  of  the  wind  and  tide. 
At  last  they  found  ^emselves  close  by  Blomidon, 
and  under  his  mighty  shadow  they  sailed  for  some 
time.  Then  they  doubled  the  cape,  and  there,  be- 
fore them,  lay  a  long  channel  —  the  Straits  of  Mi- 
nas,  through  which  the  waters  pour  at  every  ebb 
and  flood.  Their  course  now  lay  through  this  to 
the  Bay  of  Fundy  outside ;  and  as  it  was  within 
two  hours  of  the  low  tide,  the  current  ran  swiftly, 
hurrying  them  rapidly  i)ast  the  land.  Here  the 
scene  was  grand  and  impressive  in  the  extreme. 
On  one  side  arose  a  lofty,  precipitous  cliff,  which 
extended  for  miles,  its  sides  scarred  and  tempest- 


'■!• 


24 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


torn,  its  crest  fringed  with  trees,  tuwering  over- 
head many  Imndreds  of  feet,  black,  and  menacing, 
and  formidable.  At  its  base  was  a  steep  beach, 
disclosed  by  the  retreating  tide,  which  had  been 
formed  by  the  accumulated  masses  of  rock  that  had 
fallen  in  past  ages  from  the  cliffs  above.  These  now, 
from  the  margin  of  the  water  up  to  high-water 
mark,  were  covered  with  a  vast  growth  of  sea-weed, 
which  luxuriated  here,  and  ran  parallel  to  the  line  of 
vegetation  on  the  summit  of  the  clilf.  On  the  oth- 
er side  of  the  strait  the  scene  was  different.  Here 
the  shores  were  more  varied ;  in  one  place,  rising 
high  on  steep  precipices,  in  others,  thrusting  forth 
black,  rocky  promontories  into  the  deep  channel ; 
in  others  again,  retreating  far  back,  and  forming 
bays,  round  whose  sloping  shores  appeared  places 
fit  for  human  habitation,  and  in  whose  still  waters 
the  storm-tossed  bark  might  find  a  secure  haven. 

As  they  drifted  on,  borne  along  by  the  impetu- 
ous tide,  the  shores  on  either  side  changed,  and  new 
vistas  opened  before  them.  At  last  they  reached 
the  termination  of  the  strait,  the  outer  portal  of 
this  long  avenue,  which  here  was  marked  by  the 
mighty  hand  of  Nature  in  conspicuous  characters. 
For  here  was  the  termination  of  that  long  extent 
of  precipitous  cliff  which  forms  the  outline  of 
Blomidon  ;  and  this  termination,  abrupt,  and  stern, 
and  black,  shows,  in  a  concentrated  form,  the  pow- 
er of  wind  and  wave.  The  cliff  ends  abrupt,  bro- 
ken off  short,  and  beyond  this  arise  from  the  water 


I 


K'lf 


■*•»>« 


PROGRESS    OF   THE    VOYA(JE. 


or: 


several  giant  fVagUionts  of  rook,  the  first  of  vvliicii, 
shaped  like  an  irregular  pyramid,  rivals  the  elifl* 
itself  in  height,  and  is  siirroiuided  by  other  rocky 
fragments,  all  of  which  form  a  colossal  group,  whoso 
aggregated  effect  never  fails  to  overawe  the  mind 
of  the  spectator.  Such  is  Cape  Split,  the  terminus 
of  Cape  Blomidon,  on  the  side  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy. 
Over  its  shaggy  summits  now  fluttered  hundreds 
of  sea-gulls;  round  its  black  base  the  waves  foamed 
and  thundered,  while  the  swift  tide  poured  be- 
tween the  niterstices  of  the  rugged  rocks. 

"  Behind  that  thar  rock,"  said  Captain  Corbet, 
pointing  to  Cape  Split,  ^'  is  a  place  they  call  Scott's 
Bay.     Perhaps  some  of  you  have  heard  tell  of  it." 

"  I  have  a  faint  recollection  of  such  a  place,"  said 
Bart.  "  Scott's  Bay,  do  you  call  it  ?  Yes,  that  must 
be  the  place  that  I've  heard  of;  and  is  it  behind  this 
cape  ?  " 

"  It's  a  bay  that  runs  up  thar,"  said  the  captain. 
"  We'll  see  it  soon  arter  we  get  further  down.  It's 
a  fishin  and  ship-buildin  place.  They  catch  a  dread- 
ful lot  of  shad  thar  sometimes." 

Swiftly  the  Antelope  passed  on,  hurried  on  by 
the  tide,  and  no  longer  feeling  much  of  the  wind ; 
swiftly  she  passed  by  the  cliffs,  and  by  the  cape, 
and  onward  by  the  sloping  shores,  till  at  length  the 
broad  bosom  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy  extended  before 
their  eyes.  Here  the  wind  ceased  altogether,  the 
water  was  smooth  and  calm,  but  the  tide  still  swept 
them  along,  and  the  shores  on  each  side  receded. 


•  3» 


26 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


until  fit  length  they  were  fairly  in  the  bay.  Here, 
on  one  side,  the  co.ast  of  Nova  Scotia  spread  away, 
until  it  faded  from  view  in  the  distance,  wliile  on 
tlie  otlicr  side  the  coast  of  New  Brunswick  extend- 
ed. Between  the  schooner  and  this  latter  coast 
a  long  cape  projected,  while  immediately  in  front 
arose  a  lofty  island  of  rock,  whose  summit  was 
crowned  wnth  trees. 

"  What  island  is  that?  "  asked  Tom. 

''  That,"  said  Captain  Cor])et,  "  is  Isle  o'  Holt." 

'^  I  think  I've  heard  it  called  He  Haute,"  said 
Bart. 

*'  All  the  same,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  ony  I  be- 
lieve it  was  named  after  the  man  that  diskivered  it 
lust,  an  his  name  was  Holt." 

''  But  it's  a  French  name,"  said  Tom  ;  "  Ho  Hauto 
means  high  island." 

"  Wal,  mebbe  he  was  a  Frenchman,"  said  Cap- 
tain Corbet.  '•'  I  won't  argufy  —  I  dare  sa}^  he  was. 
Tliere  us^jd  to  be  a  heap  o'  Frenchmen  about  these 
parts,  afore  we  got  red  of  'em." 

"  It's  a  black,  gloomy,  dismal,  and  wretched-look- 
ing place,"  said  Tom,  after  some  minutes  of  silent 
survey. 


f 


li^ 


VIEW    OF   ILE    HAUTE. 


27 


II. 


Flrfit  Slijlit  of  a  Place  destined  to  be  tictter  known.  — 
A  Foij  Mill.  —  Navigation  icilhoid  Wind.  — Finh- 
i)i(j.  —  Boarding.  —  Under  AiireM.  —  Ca2)tain 
Cor/jet  dejiant.  —  The  Revemce  OJicials  frowned 
down.  —  Corbet  triuniphant. 


lii 


TIE  Antelope  had  left  the  wharf  at  ahout 
seven  in  the  morning.  It  was  now  one 
o'clock.  For  the  last  tv  j  or  three  hours 
there  had  been  but  little  wind,  and  it  was  the  tide 
which  had  carried  her  along.  Drifting  on  in  this  way, 
they  had  come  to  within  a  mile  of  He  Haute,  and 
had  an  opportunity  t)f  inspecting  the  place  which 
Tom  had  declared  to  be  so  gloomy.  In  truth,  Tom's 
judgment  was  not  undeserved.  He  Haute  arose 
like  a  solid,  unbroken  rock  out  of  the  deep  waters 
of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  its  sides  precipitous,  and 
scarred  by  tempest,  and  shattered  by  frost.  On 
its  summit  were  trees,  at  its  base  lay  masses  of 
rock  that  had  fallen.  The  low  tide  disclosed  here, 
as  at  the  base  of  Blomidon,  a  vast  growth  of  blacjk 
Hoa-woed,  which  covered  }dl  that  rocky  shore.  The 
upper  end  of  the  island,  which  was  nearest  them, 


uaES.i 


28 


LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 


was  lower,  liowevcr,  Jiiid  went  duwii  slupiug  to  tlio 
shore,  tunning-  a  place  wliero  a  landing  could  easily 
be  ellected.  From  this  shore  mud  Hats  extended 
into  the  water. 

"  This  end  looks  as  though  it  had  been  cleared," 
said  Bart. 

"  1  believe  it  was,"  said  tlie  captain. 

^'  Does  anybody  live  here  ?  " 

''  No." 

"  Did  any  one  ever  live  here?" 

"  Yes,  once,  some  one  tried  it,  I  believe,  but  gave 
it  up." 

"  Does  it  belong  to  anybody,  or  is  it  public  prop- 
erty ?  " 

"•  0,  I  dare  say  it  belongs  to  somebody,  if  you 
could  only  get  him  to  claim  it." 

*•  I  say,  captain,"  said  Bruce, ''  how  much  longer 
are  we  going  to  drift?  " 

"  0,  not  much  longer.  Tiie  tide's  about  on  the 
turn,  and  we'll  liave  a  leetle  change." 

''  What!  will  we  drift  l)ack  again?" 

"  0,  I  sliouldn't  wonder  if  we  had  a  leetle  wind 
afore  long." 

"  But  if  we  don't,  will  we  drift  back  again  into 
the  Basin  of  Minas  ?  " 

'^  0,  dear,  no.  Wo  can  anchor  hereabouts  some- 
wliar." 

"  You  won't  anclior  by  this  island,  —  will  you?" 

"  (),  dear,  no.     We'll  have  a  leetle  driftin  first." 

As  thc!  ca[)tain  spoke,  he  looked  earnestly  out 
upon  the  water. 


'^■■f 


t 


I 


■I 


SAILING    ALONG   SHORE. 


29 


lO 

y 
(i 


jj 


•'  Thar  slic  comes,"  ho  cried  at  last,  pointing 
over  the  water.  The  boys  looked,  and  saw  the 
surface  of  the  bay  all  rippled  over.  They  knew 
the  signs  of  wind,  and  waited  for  the  result.  Soon 
a  faint  pulT  came  up  the  hay,  which  filled  the  lan- 
guid sails,  and  another  pulF  came  up  more  strongly, 
and  yet  another,  until  at  lengtli  a  moderate  breeze 
was  blowing.  The  tide  no  longer  dragged  them 
on.  It  was  on  the  turn;  and  as  the  vessel  caught 
the  wind,  it  yielded  to  the  impetus,  and  moved 
througli  the  v/ater,  heading  am'oss  the  bay  towai'ds 
the  New  IJrunswick  shore,  in  such  a  line  as  to  pass 
near  to  that  cape  which  has  already  been  spoken  of. 

"  If  the  wind  holds  out,''  said  Ca])tain  Corbet, 
"  so  as  to  carry  ns  past  Cape  d'Or,  we  can  drift  up 
with  this  tide." 

"  Where's  Cape  d'Or?" 

"  That  there,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  pointing  to 
the  long  cape  which  stretched  between  them  and 
the  New  Hrunswick  shore.  "  An  if  it  goes  down,  an 
wo  can't  get  by  the  cape,  we'll  be  able,  at  any  rate, 
to  drop  anchor  there,  an  hold  on  till  the  next  tide." 

The  returning  tide,  and  the  fresh  l)reeze  that 
blow  now,  bore  them  onward  rapidly,  and  they 
soon  npproached  Cape  d'Or.  They  saw  that  it 
t(>rminat(Ml  in  a  rocky  clift',  with  rocky  edges  jut- 
ting forth,  and  that  all  the  country  adjoining  was 
wild  and  rugged.  But  the  wiiK^  ving  done  this 
nuich  for  thoin,  now  Ix^gan  to  so.  :.ired  of  favor- 
ing them,  and  once  more  f(3il  dff. 


I      i 


30  LOST   IN   THE    FOC. 

"I  clon't  like  tliis,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  looking  j| 

around.  | 

"  What  ?  "  ^ 

"  All  this  here,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  shore.  ,*  f 

rt  was  about  a  mile  away,  and  the  schooner, 
l>()rne  along  now  by  the  tide,  was  slowly  drifting 
on  to  an  unpleasant  proximity  to  the  rcx^ky  shore. 

"  I  guess  we've  got  to  anchor,"  sai^l  Captain 
Corbet;  "  there's  no  help  for  it," 

"To  anchor?"  said  Bruce,  in  a  tone  of  disap- 
pointment. 

"  Yes,  anchor ;  we've  got  to  do  it,"  repeated 
the  captain,  in  a  decided  tone.  T'le  boys  saw  that 
there  was  no  help  for  it,  for  the  vessel  was  every 
moment  drawing  in  closer  to  the  rocks  ;  and  though 
it  would  not  have  been  very  dangerous  for  her  to 
run  ashore  in  that  calm  water,  yet  it  would  not 
have  been  pleasant.  So  tliey  suppressed  their  dis- 
appointment, and  in  a  few  minutes  the  anchor  was 
down,  and  the  schocmer's  progress  was  stopped. 

"  Thar's  one  secret,"  said  the  captain,  "  of  navi- 
gatin  in  these  here  waters,  an  that  is,  to  use  your 
anchor.  My  last  anchor  T  used  for  nigh  on  thirty 
year,  till  it  got  cracked.  1  mayn't  be  much  on 
land,  but  put  mo  anywhars  on  old  Fundy,  an  I'm 
to  hum.  1  know  every  current  on  these  here  wa- 
ters, an  can  foller  my  nose  through  the  thickest  fog 
that  thoy  ever  ground  out  at  old  Manan." 
■rt,j»  "What's  that?"  asked  P>art.  ^' What  did  you 
siiy  about  grinding  out  fog?  " 


t»- 


A    POG   MILL. 


31 


I 


"  0,  notliin,  ony  tliar's  an  island  down  the  bay, 
you  know,  called  Grand  Manan,  an  seafarin  men 
say  that  they've  got  a  fog  mill  down  thar,  whar 
they  grind  out  all  the  fog  for  the  Bay  of  Fundy. 
I  can't  say  as  ever  I've  seen  that  thar  mill,  but  I've 
alius  found  the  fog  so  mighty  thick  down  thar  that 
1  think  thar's  a  good  deal  in  the  story." 

"  I  suppose  we'll  lose  this  tide,"  said  Phil. 

''  Yes,  Pm  afeard  so,"  said  the  captain,  looking 
around  over  the  water.  "  This  here  wind  ain't 
much,  any  way ;  you  never  can  reckon  on  winds  in 
this  bay.  1  don't  care  much  about  them.  Pd  a 
most  just  as  soon  go  about  the  bay  without  sails 
as  with  them.  What  I  brag  on  is  the  tides,  an  a 
jodgmatical  use  of  the  anchor." 

"  You're  not  in  earnest?" 

"  Course  I  am." 

"  Could  you  get  to  St.  John  from  Grand  Pr^ 
without  sails?" 

"  Course  I  could." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  could  manage  to  do  it." 

"  Do  it?  Easy  enough,"  said  the  captain.  ''  You 
see  Pd  leave  with  the  ebb  tide,  and  get  out  into 
the  bay.  Then  Pd  anchor  an  wait  till  the  next  ebb, 
an  so  on.     Bless  your  hearts,  Pve  often  done  it." 

''  But  you  couldn't  get  across  the  bay  by  drift- 
ing." 

"Course  I  could.  Pd  work  my  way  by  short 
drifts  over  as  far  as  this,  an  thou  Pd  gradually 
move  along  till  I  kine  o'  canted  over  to  the  Now 


^0 


LOST   IN   THE   FOO. 


Brunswick  shore.  It  takes  time  to  do  it,  course 
it  docs ;  but  what  1  mean  to  say  is  this  —  it  can 
be  done." 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  on  board  while  you 
were  trying  to  do  it." 

"  Mebbc  npt.  I  ain't  invitin  you  to  do  it,  either. 
All  I  was  sayin  is,  it  can  be  done.  Sails  air  very 
good  in  their  way,  course  they  air,  an  who's  ob- 
jectin  to  'em  ?  I'm  only  sayin  that  in  this  hero 
bay  thar's  things  that's  more  important  than  sails, 
by  a  hmg  chalk  —  such  as  tides,  an  anchors  in  par- 
ticular. Give  me  them  thar,  an  I  don't  care  a 
hooter  what  wind  thar  is." 

Lying  thus  at  anchor,  under  the  hot  sun,  was 
soon  found  to  be  rather  dull,  and  the  boys  sought 
In  vain  for  some  way  of  passing  the  time.  Differ- 
ent amusements  were  invented  for  the  occasion. 
The  first  amusement  consisted  in  paper  boats,  with 
which  they  ran  races,  and  the  drift  of  these  frail 
vessels  over  the  water  affbrded  some  excitement. 
1'hon  they  made  wooden  boats  with  huge  paper 
sails.  In  tliis  last  Bart  showed  a  superiority  to 
the  others;  for,  by  means  of  a  piece  of  iron  hoop, 
which  he  inserted  as  a  keel,  he  produced  a  boat 
which  was  able  to  cany  an  immense  press  of  sail, 
and  in  the  faint  and  scarce  perceptible  breeze, 
easily  distanced  the  others.  This  accomplishment 
Bart  owed  to  his  training  in  a  seaport  town. 

At  length  one  of  them  proposed  that  they  should 
try  to  catch  fish.     Captain   Corbet,  in  answer  to 


I 


tS-r 


i 


FISHING. 


33 


"I 


' 


' 


their  eager  inquiries,  informed  them  that  there 
were  fish  everywhere  about  the  bay ;  on  learning 
which  they  became  eager  to  try  their  skill.  Some 
herring  w^ere  on  board,  forming  part  of  the  stores, 
and  these  were  taken  for  bait.  Among  the  miscel- 
laneous contents  of  the  cabin  a  few  hooks  were 
found,  which  were  somewhat  rusty,  it  Is  true,  yet 
still  good  enough  for  the  purpose  before  them. 
Lines,  of  course,  were  easily  procured,  and  soon  a 
half  dozen  baited  hooks  were  down  in  the  water, 
while  a  half  dozen  boys,  eager  with  suspense, 
watched  the  surface  of  the  water. 

For  a  half  hour  they  held  their  lines  suspended 
without  any  result ;  but  at  the  end  of  that  time,  a 
cry  from  Phil  roused  them,  and  on  looking  round 
they  saw  him  clinging  with  all  his  might  to  his 
line,  which  was  tugged  at  tightly  by  something  in 
the  water.  Bruce  ran  to  help  him,  and  soon  their 
united  efforts  succeeded  in  landing  on  the  deck  of 
the  vessel  a  codfish  of  very  respectable  size.  The 
sight  of  this  was  g''eeted  with  cheers  by  the  others, 
and  served  to  stimulate  them  to  their  work. 

After  this  others  were  caught,  and  before  half 
an  hour  more  some  twenty  codfish,  of  various  sizes, 
lay  about  the  deck,  as  trophies  of  their  piscatory 
skill.  They  were  now  more  excited  than  ever,  and 
all  had  their  hooks  in  the  water,  and  were  waiting 
eagerly  for  a  bite,  when  an  exolamrttion  from  Cap- 
tain Corbet  roused  them. 

On  turning  their  heads,  and  looking  in  the  direc- 


:-v 


34 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


tion  where  he  was  pointing,  they  saw  a  steamboat 
approaching  them.  It  was  coming  from  the  iiead 
of  tiie  bay  on  tlio  No\v  Brunswick  side,  and  had 
iiitherto  been  concealed  by  the  projecting  cape. 

''  Whiit's  tliat?  ''  said  Bart.  "  Is  it  the  St.  J(yhn 
steamer  ?  '' 

"  No,  .siV,"  said  tlie  captain.  Slic's  a  man-o'-war 
steamer  —  the  revcnoo  cutter,  I  do  believe." 

''  flow  d(^  you  know?" 

"  Why,  by  her  shape." 

"  She  seems  to  be  coming  this  way." 

"  Yes,  bound  to  Minas  Bay,  I  s'pose.  Wal, 
wal,  wal!  strange  too,  —  how  singoolarly  calm  an 
onti3n-ified  I  feel  in'ardly.  Why,  boys,  I've  seen  the 
time  when  the  sight  of  a  approachin  revenoo  ves- 
sel would  make  me  shiver  an  shake  from  stem  to 
starn.  I>ut  now  how  changed !  Such,  my  friends, 
is  the  mootability  of  human  life!" 

The  boys  looked  at  the  steamer  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, but  at  length  went  back  to  their  fishing. 
The  ap[)roaching  steamer  had  nothing  in  it  to  ex- 
cite curiosity  :  such  an  object  was  too  familiar  to 
withdraw  their  tliouii'hts  from  tiie  excitement  of 
their  lines  and  hooks,  and  the  hope  which  each 
had  of  sur})assing  the  other  in  the  number  of  catch- 
es animated  tluMu  to  new  trials.  So  they  soon  for- 
got all  about  the  iip[)roaching  steamer. 

But  Captain  Corbet  liad  nothing  else  to  do,  and 
so,  whether  it  was  on  account  of  his  lack  of  employ- 
ment, or  because  of  the  sake  of  old  associations, 


'it 


'I 


HBffi  .|i»w*TO«n»p5i^ww 


A   (3UN    FTRED. 


35 


i 


•t^- 


-> 


lie  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on-  the  steamer.  Time 
passed  on,  and  in  the  space  of  anotlior  lialf  hour 
slie  liad  drawn  very  near  to  the  Antelope. 

Suddenly  Captain  Corbet  slapped  his  hand  n.gainst 
his  thigh. 

"  Declar,  if  they  ain't  a  goin  to  overhaul  us  !  "  he 
cried. 

At  this  the  boys  all  turned  again  to  look  at  the 
steamer. 

"  Declar,  if  that  fellow  in  the  gold  hat  ain't  a 
squintin  at  us  through  his  spy-glass !  "  cried  the 
captain. 

As  the  boys  looked,  they  saw  that  the  Antelope 
had  become  an  object  of  singular  attcuition  and  in- 
terest to  those  on  board  of  the  steamer.  ^len  were 
on  the  forecastle,  others  on  the  main  deck,  the 
ollicers  were  on  the  (piarter-deck,  and  all  were 
earnestly  scrutinizing  the  Antelope.  One  of  them 
was  looking  at  her  through  his  glass.  The  Ante- 
lope, as  she  lay  at  anchor,  was  now  turned  with 
her  stern  towards  the  steamer,  and  her  sails  flap- 
ping idly  against  the  masts.  In  a  few  moments 
the  paddles  of  the  steamer  stopped,  iind  at  the  same 
instant  a  gun  was  fired. 

"  Highly  honored,  kind  sir,"  siiid  Captain  Corbet, 
with  a  grin. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Bart. 

"  Matter  ?  Why  that  thar  steamer  feels  kino  o'  in- 
terested in  us,  an  that  thar  gun  means,  Heave  to,''^ 

"Are  you  going  to  heave  to?  " 


3G  LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 

"  Niiry  heave." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Can't  come  it  no  how ;  cos  why,  I'm  hove  to, 
with  tlio  ancliur  liard  and  fast  ony  tlioy  can't  see 
tliat  we're  ancliorcd." 

Suddenly  a  cry  came  over  the  water  from  a  man 
on  the  quarter-deck. 

"  Sliip  aho-o-o-o-o-oy  I " 

'^  Ilel-lo-o-o-o-o ! " 

Sucli  was  tlie  informal  reply  of  Captain  Corbet. 

"  Ifoave  to-o-o-o,  till  I  send  a  boat  aboard." 

"  ]Ioo-r-a-a-a-a-ay  ! " 

Such  was  again  Captain  Corbet's  cheerful  and 
informal  answer. 

"  Wal  !  wal !  wal ! "  he  exclaimed,  ''  it  does  beat 
my  grandmother  —  they're  goin  to  send  a  boat 
aboard." 

''What  for?" 

Capt;un  Corbet  grinned,  and  shook  his  head,  and 
cIiucUI'mI  very  vehemently,  but  said  nothing.  He 
appeared  to  be  excessively  amused  with  his  own 
thoughts.  The  boys  looked  at  the  steamer,  and 
then  at  Captain  Corbet,  in  some  wonder ;  but  as  he 
said  nothing,  they  Avcre  silent,  and  waited  to  see 
Avhat  was  going  to  happen.  Meanwhile  Solomon, 
roused  from  some  mysterious  culinary  duties  by 
the  report  of  the  gun,  had  scrambled  ujion  the 
deck,  and  stood  with  the  others  looking  out  over 
the  water  at  the  steamer.  '        "^1 

In  a  few  moments  the  steamer's  boat  was  launclied, 


•  *"•'  ■''^' 


BOARDING.  3f 

aiul  a  luilf  dozen  sailors  got  in,  followed  by  an  officer. 
Then  they  put  oil',  and  rowed  with  vigorous  strokes 
towards  the  schooner. 

Captain  Corbet  watched  the  boat  for  some  time 

in  silence. 

''  Cur'ouser  an  cur'ouser,"  ho  said,  at  length. 
"  I've  knowed  the  time,  boys,  when  sech  an  inci- 
dent as  this,  on  the  briny  deep,  would  have  fairly 
keeled  nie  over,  an  made  me  moot,  an  riz  every 
har  o'  my  head ;  but  look  at  me  now.  Do  I  trem- 
ble? do  1  shake?     Here,  feel  my  pulse." 

Phil,  who  stood  nearest,  put  his  finger  on  the 
outstretched  wrist  of  the  captain. 

"Does  it  beat?" 

-  No,"  said  Phil. 

"  Course  it  beats ;  but  then  it  ony  beats  nateral. 
You  ain't  feeliii  the  right  spot — the  humane  pulse 
not  bein  sitooated  on  the  hack  of  the  hand,"  he 
added  mildly,  ''  but  here ; "  and  he  removed  Phil's 
inexperienced  finger  to  the  place  where  the  pulse 
lies.  "  Thar,  now,"  he  added,  "  as  that  pulse  beats 
now,  even  so  it  beat  a  half  hour  ago,  before  that 
thar  steamer  hev  in  sight.  Why,  boys,  I've  knowed 
the  time  when  this  humane  pulse  bet  like  all  pos- 
sessed. You  see,  I've  lived  a  life  of  adventoor,  in 
spite  of  my  meek  and  quiet  natoor,  an  hev  dabbled 
at  odd  times  in  the  smugglin  business.  But  they 
don't  catch  me  this  time  —  I've  retired  from  that 
thar,  an  the  Antelope  lets  the  revenoo  rest  in 
peace." 


1 

i 


38  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

Tlie  bout  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  tlie  ol- 
ficer  at  the  stern  looked  senitinizingly  at  the  An- 
tehjpe.  There  was  an  air  oi"  perplexity  about  his 
face,  which  was  very  visible  to  those  on  board,  and 
the  perplexity  deepened  and  intensified  as  his  eyes 
rested  on  the  flag  of  the  ''  B.  O.  W.  C."  h 

"  Leave  him  to  me,"  said  Captain  Corbet.  "  Leave 
that  thar  young  man  to  me.  I  enjy  h.ivin  to  do 
witli  a  revenoo  officer  jest  now;  so  don't  go  an  put 
in  your  oars,  but  jest  leave  him  to  me." 

''  All  right,  captain ;  we  won't  say  a  word,"  said 
Bruce.  "  We'll  go  on  with  our  fishing  quietly. 
Come,  boys  —  look  sharp,  and  down  with  your 
lines." 

The  interest  which  they  had  felt  in  these  new 
proceedings  had  caused  the  boys  to  pull  up  their 
hooks ;  but  now,  at  Bruce's  word,  they  put  them  in 
the  water  once  more,  and  resumed  their  fishing, 
only  casting  sidelong  glances  at  the  approaching 
boat. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  boai:  was  alongside,  and 
the  officer  leaped  on  board.  He  looked  all  around, 
at  the  fish  lying  about  the  deck,  at  the  boys  en- 
gaged in  fishing,  at  Captain  Corbet,  at  Solomon,  at 
the  mysterious  flag  aloft,  and  finally  at  the  boys. 
These  all  took  no  notice  of  him,  but  appeared  to  be 
intent  on  their  task. 

"What  schooner  is  this?  "  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"The  schooner  Antelope,  Corbet  master,"  replied 
the  captain. 


\w 


* 


Uli  <p'Mi..iU«I.UJPI 


u  uHi  II I II « I  i-jt^iy  wii^w  ^v  '.HI" ■*  |i  wi  u  u  imv  i"  ■■■■wv^i.  ,upi  "i^j^ I  ■  r' 


'"i^r' 


A   PARLEY. 


39 


<'  Are  you  the  master  ?  " 

'^  I  urn." 

"  Where  do  you  belong?" 

"  Grand  rr(3." 

"  Grand  Pre  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

''  Ilm,"  he  replied,  with  a  stare  around  —  "  Grand 

Pr,;:  _  ah  —  hm." 

"  Yes,  jest  so." 

"What's  that?" 

^'  I  briefly  remarked  that  it  was  jest  so." 

''  What's  the  reason  you  didn't  lie  to,  when  you 
were  hail(3d  ?  " 

"  Lay  to  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Couldn't  do  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  "  asked  the  officer, 
who  was  rather  ireful,  and  somewhat  insulting  in 

his  manner. 

"Wal,  bein  as  I  was  anchored  here  hard  an 
fast,  I  don't  exactly  see  how  I  could  manage  to 
go  thi-ough  that  thar  manoeuvre,  unless  you'd  kind- 
ly lend  me  the  loan  of  your  steam  ingine  to  do 

it  on." 

"  Look  here,  old  man ;  jfou'd  better  look  out." 
"  Wal,  I  dew  try  to  keep  a  good  lookout.     How 

much'U  you  take  for  the  loan  o'  that  spy-glass  o^ 

yourn 


V" 


"  Let  me  see  your  papers." 
"Tapers?" 


40 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


)'' 


"  Yes,  your  papers." 

"  Hain't  got  none." 

"  Wliat'8  that  ?  " 

"  Hain't  got  none." 

"  You  —  hav^en't  —  any  —  papers  ?  " 

"  Nary  i)aper." 

Tlie  officer's  brow  grew  dark.  TTe  looked  around 
the  vessel  once  more,  and  tlien  looked  frowningly  at 
Captain  Corbet,  who  encountered  his  glance  with 
a  serene  smile. 

"  Look  here,  old  man,"  said  lie  ;  "you  can't  come 
it  over  me.  Your  little  game's  up,  old  fellow.  This 
schooner's  seized." 

"Seized?     What  for?" 

"  For  violation  of  the  law,  by  fishing  within  the 
limits." 

"Limits?     What  limits?" 

"  No  foreign  vessel  can  come  within  three  miles 
of  the  shore." 

"  Foreign  vessel  ?  Do  you  mean  to  call  me  a 
p    foreigner  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.     You're  a  Yankee  fisherman." 

"Ami?" 

"  Of  course  you  are  ;  and  what  do  you  moan  by 
that  confounded  rag  up  there  ?  "  cried  the  officer, 
pointing  to  the  flag  of  the  "  B.  0.  W.  C."  "  If  you 
think  you  can  fish  in  this  style,  you'll  find  your- 
self mistaken.  I  know  too  much  about  this  busi- 
ness." 

"  Do  you  ?    Well,  theU;  kind  sir,  allow  me  to  men- 


CAPTAIN  Corbet's  arrest. 


4i 


tion  that  you've  got  somethin  to  larii  yet —  spite  o^ 
your  steam  injines  au  spy-glasses." 

"  What's  that?  "  cried  the  officer,  furious.  "  I'll 
let  you  know.  I  arrest  you,  and  this  vessel  is 
seized." 

^'  Wait  a  minute,  young  sir,"  cried  Captain  Cor- 
bet ;  '^  not  quite  so  fast,  ef  you  pleasu.  You'll  get 
yourself  arrested.  What  do  you  mean  by  this  here  ? 
Do  you  know  who  I  am?  I,  sir,  am  a  subject  of 
Queen  Victory.  My  homo  is  here.  I'm  now  on 
my  own  natyve  shore.  A  foreigner,  am  I  ?  Let 
me  tell  you,  sir,  that  I  was  born,  brung  up,  nour- 
ished, married,  an  settled  in  this  here  province,  an 
I've  got  an  infant  born  here,  an  I'm  not  a  lislier- 
man,  an  this  ain't  a  fishin  vessel.  You  arrest  me  ef 
you  dar.  You'll  see  who'll  get  the  wust  of  it  in 
the  long  run.  I'd  like  precious  well  to  get  dam. 
ages  —  yea,  swingin  damages  —  out  of  one  of  you 
revenoo  fellers." 

Tlie  officer  looked  around  again.  It  would  not 
do  to  make  a  mistake.  Captain  Corbet's  words  were 
not  without  effect. 

"  Yea  !  "  cried  Captain  Corbet.  "  Yea,  naval  sir  ! 
I'm  a  free  Nova  Scotian,  as  free  as  a  bird.  I  cruise  ' 
Jibout  my  natyve  coasts  whar  I  please.  Who's  to 
bender?  Seize  me  if  you  dar,  an  it'll  be  the  dear- 
est job  you  ever  tried.  This  here  is  my  own  pri- 
vate pleasure  yacht.  These  are  my  young  friends, 
natyves,  an  amatoor  fisliennen.  Cast  your  eye  down 
into  yonder  hold,  and  see  ii  this  hero's  a  (ishin  craft." 


41^ 


LOST   TN  THE   FOG. 


The  officer  looke  I  down,  luid  saw  a  cooking 
stove,  trunks,  and  I  edding.  He  looked  around  in 
doubt. 

But  this  scene  had  lasted  long  enough. 

''  0,  nonsense  !  "  said  Bart,  suddenly  pulling  up 
his  line,  and  coming  forward  ;  "see  here  —  it's  all 
riglit,"  said  he  to  the  officer.  "  We're  not  fisher- 
men. It's  as  he  says.  We're  only  out  on  a  short 
cruise,  you  know,  for  pleasure,  and  that  sort  of 
thing." 

As  Bart  turned,  the  others  did  the  same.  Bruce 
lounged  up,  dragging  his  line,  followed  by  Arthur 
and  the  others.  * 

"  We're  responsible  for  the  schooner,"  said  Bruce, 
quietly.  "  It's  ours  for  the  time  being.  We  don't 
look  like  foreign  fishermen  —  do  we?  " 

The  officer  looked  at  the  boys,  and  saw  his  mis- 
take at  once,  lie  was  afraid  that  he  had  made 
himself  ridiculous.  The  faces  and  manners  of  the 
boys,  as  they  stood  confronting  him  in  an  easy  and 
sell-possessed  manner,  showed  most  plainly  the  ab- 
surdity of  his  position.  Even  the  mysterious  Hag 
became  intelligible,  when  he  looked  at  the  faces  of 
those  over  whom  it  floated. 

"  1  suppose  it's  all  riglit,"  he  muttered,  in  a  vexed 
tone,  and  descended  into  the  boat  without  another 
word. 


"  Sorry  to  liave  troubled  you,  captain,"  said  Cor- 
bet, looking  blandly  after  the  officer ;  "  but  it  wan't 
my  fiiult.     1  didn't  have  charge  of  that  thar  injine." 


CORBET   TRIUMPHANT. 


43 


The  officer  turned  liis  back  witliout  a  word,  and 
the  men  pulled  oil'  to  the  steamer. 

The  captain  looked  after  the  boat  in  silence  for 
some  time. 

"  I'm  sorry/'  said  he,  at  length,  as  he  heaved  a 
gentle  sigh,  —  ''I'm  sorry  that  you  put*  in  your 
oars  —  I  do  so  like  to  sass  a  revonoo  ollicer." 


44 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


III. 

Solomon  surpasses  Jiunself.  —  A  Period  of  Joi/  is 
generaUy  folloioed  by  a  Time  of  Sorrow.  —  Gloomij 
Fo7'ehodinijs.  —  Tlie  Leyeml  of  Petticoat  Jack.  — 
Captain  Corbet  diseotcrscs  of  the  Dangers  of  tlie 
Deep,  and  pats  in  Practice  a  new  and  original 
Blode  of  Navigation. 


I  IIS  interruption  put  an  end  to  their  attempts 
at  (isliing,  and  was  succeeded  by  another  in- 
terruption of  a  more  pleasing  cliaracter,  in  the 
shape  ot'dinner,  which  was  now  loudly  announced  by 
Solomon.  For  some  time  a  savory  steam  had  been 
issuing  from  the  lower  regions,  and  had  been  wafted 
to  their  nostrils  in  successive  puffs,  until  at  last 
their  impatient  api)etite8  had  been  roused  to  the 
keenest  point,  and  the  enticing  fragrance  .lad  sug- 
gested all  sorts  of  dishes.  When  at  length  the 
summons  came,  and  they  w^ent  below,  they  Ibund 
the  dinner  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  occasion. 
Solomon's  skill  never  was  manifested  more  con- 
spicuously than  on  this  occasion;  and  whether  the 
repast  was  judged  of  by  the  (piantity  or  the  (jual- 
ity  of  the  dishes,  it  equally  deserved  to  be  con- 


\ 


r 


SOLOMON   SURPASSES   HIMSELF. 


45 


I. 


•4,,'- 


riiderecl  as  one  of  tho  masterpieces  of  the  distiu- 
guislied  artist  who  had  prepared  it. 

''  Dar,  cliireii,"  he  exclaimed,  as  they  took  tlieir 
l)laces,  "  dar,  cap'en,  jes  tas  dem  ar  truut,  to 
begin  on,  an  see  if  you  ever  saw  anythin  to 
l)eat  'cm  in  all  your  born  days.  Den  try  do  stew, 
den  do  meat  pie,  den  de  calf's  head  ;  but  dat  ar  \ue, 
down  dar  mustn't  be  touched,  nor  eben  so  much  as 
looked  at,  till  de  las  ob  all." 

And  wit) I  tlicse  words  Solomon  stepped  back, 
leaning  both  hands  on  his  hips,  and  surv(-yed  the 
ban(|uet  and  the  company  with  a  smile  of  serene 
and  ineffable  complacency. 

'^  All  right,  Solomon,  my  son,"  said  Bart.  "  Your 
dinner  is  like  yourself — unequalled  and  unap- 
proachable." 

"  I>less  you,  bless  you,  my  friend,"  murmured 
Bruce,  in  the  intervals  of  eating ;  *•'  if  there  is  any 
contrast  between  this  })rescnt  voyage  and  former 
ones,  it  is  all  due  to  our  unequalled  caterer." 

"  TIow^  did  you  get  the  trout,  Solomon?"  said 
Pliil 

"  De  trout?  0,  T  picked  'em  u])  last  night 
down  in  le  village,"  said  Solomon.  "Met  little 
boy  from  Gaspcreaux,  an  got  'em  from  him." 

"What's  this?"  cried  Tom,  opening  a  dish  — 
"not  lobster  !" 

"  Lobster  !  "  exclaimed  Phil. 
.   ''So  it  is." 

"  Why,  Solomon,  where  did  you  get  lobster?" 


4G 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


"  Is  this  the  season  fur  them  ?  " 
"  Think  of  the  words  of  the  poet,  boys/'  said 
Bart,  warningly,  — 

"  In  the  montlis  without  the  R, 
Clams  and  lobsters  pison  are." 

Solomon  meanwhile  stood  apart,  grinning  from 
ear  to  ear,  with  his  little  black  beads  of  eyes 
twinkling  with  merriment. 

"  Ilallo,  Solomon  !  What  do  you  say  to  lobstersi 
in  July  ?  " 

Solomon's  head  wagged  up  and  down,  as  though 
he  were  indulging  in  some  quiet,  unobtrusive 
laughter,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  re})licd. 

"  0,  neber  you  fear,  chil'en,"  he  said  ;  "  ef  you're 
only  goin  to  get  sick  from  lobsters,  you'll  live  a 
long  day.  You  may  go  in  for  clams,  an  lobsters, 
an  oysters  any  time  ob  de  yeah  you  like,  —  ony 
dey  mus  be  cooked  up  proper." 

"  I'm  gratified  to  hear  that,"  said  Bruce,  gravely, 
''  but  at  the  same  time  puzzled.  For  Mrs.  Pratt 
says  the  exact  opposite ;  and  so  here  we  have  two 
great  authorities  in  direct  opposition.  So  what  arc 
we  to  think?" 

"  O,  there's  no  difhculty,"  said  Arthur,  "  for 
the  doctors  are  not  of  ecpud  authority.  Mrs.  Pratt 
is  a  quack,  but  Solomon  is  a  professional  —  a  regu- 
lar, natural,  artistic,  and  scientific  cook,  which  at 
sea  is  the  same  as  doctor." 

The  dinner  was  prolonged  to  an  extent  commen- 


I 


* 


JOY    FOLLOWED    BY   SORROW.  47 


I  surato  with  its  own  inherent  excellence  and  the 

capacity  of  the  boys  to  appreciate  it ;  but  at  length, 
like  all  things  mortal,  it  came  to  a  termination,  and 
the  company  went  up  once  more  to  the  deck.  On 
looking  round  it  was  evident  to  all  that  a  cliange 
■;_  had  taken  place. 

I  Four  miles  away  lay  He  Haute,  and  eight  or  ten 

I  miles  beyond  this  lay  the  long  line  of  Nova  Scotia. 

t  It  was  now  about  four  o'clock,  and  the  tide  liad 

I  been  rising  for  three  hours,  and  was  flowing  up 

%  rapidly,  and  in  a  full,  strong  current.     As  yet  there 

I  was  no  wind,  and  the  broad  surfiico  of  the  bay  was 

I  quite  smooth  and  unruffled.     In  the  distance  and 

far  down  the  bay,  where  its  waters  joined  the  hori- 
zon, there  was  a  kind  of  haze,  tliat  rendered  the 
line  of  se])aration  between  sea  and  sky  very  indis- 
tinct. The  coast  of  Nova  Scotia  was  at  once  en- 
largiid  and  obscured.  It  seemed  now  elevated  to 
nn  unusual  height  above  the  sea  line,  as  though  it 
had  been  suddenly  brought  several  miles  nonrer, 
and  yet,  instead  of  being  more  distinct,  was  actually 
more  obscure.  Even  He  Haute,  though  so  near, 
did  not  escape.  Four  miles  of  distance  were  not 
suflicient  to  give  it  tliat  grand  indistinctness  which 
wiis  now  Hung  over  the  Nova  Scotia  coast;  yet 
much  of  the  mysterious  effect  of  the  haze  had 
gatliered  about  the  island  ;  its  lofty  clilfs  seemed 
to  tower  on  high  more  majestically,  and  to  lean  over 
more  frowningly ;  its  fringe  of  black  sea-weed 
below  seemed  blacker,  while  the  general  hue  ol" 


48  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

the  island  had  clianged  from  a  reddish  color  to  one 
of  a  dull  slaty  blue. 

"  I  don't  like  this,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  looking 
down  the  bay  and  twisting  up  his  face  as  he 
looked. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

Cai)tain  Corbet  shook  his  head. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Bad,  bad,  bad  !  "  said  the  captain. 

"  Is  there  going  to  be  a  storm  ?  " 

''  Wuss  !  " 

"  Worse  ?     What  ?  " 

"  Fog." 

u  Fog  ?  " 

"■  Yes,  hot  an  heavy,  thick  as  puddin,  an  no  mis- 
take. I  tell  you  what  it  is,  boys  :  judgin  from 
what  1  see,  they've  got  a  bran-new  steam  injine  into 
that  tliar  fog  mill  at  Grand  Manan ;  an  the  way 
they're  goin  to  grind  out  the  fog  this  here  night  is 
a  caution  to  mariners." 

Saying  this,  he  took  oif  his  hat,  and  holding  it 
in  one  hand,  he  scratched  his  venerable  head  long 
and  thouglitfully  with  the  other. 

''  But  I  don't  see  any  fog  as  yet,"  said  Bart. 

"  Don't  see  it?     Wal,  what  d'ye  call  all  that?" 
said  the   captain,  giving  a  grand   comprehensive 
sweep  with  his  arm,  so  as  to  take  in  the  entire        fe. 
scene. 

"  Why,  it's  clear  enough." 

"  Clear  ?     Then  let  me  tell  you  that  when  you 


i 


GLOOMY   FOREBODINGS. 


49 


sec  a  atmospliero  like  tliis  here,  tlicn  you  may  ex- 
pect to  see  it  any  moment  changed  into  deep,  tliick 
fog.  Any  moment  —  five  minutes '11  he  enough 
to  snatch  everything  from  sight,  and  hury  us  all 
in  the  middle  of  a  uny^ersal  fog  hank.'' 

"  What '11  we  do  ?  " 

''  Dew  ?     That's  jest  the  question." 

"  Can  we  go  on  ?  " 

"  Wid  —  without  wind  —  I  don't  exactly  see  how. 
Tn  a  fog  a  wind  is  not  without  its  advantages. 
That's  one  of  the  times  when  the  old  Antelope 
likes  to  have  her  sails  up ;  but  as  we  hain't  got  no 
wind,  I  don't  think  we'll  do  much." 

'^Will  you  stay  here  at  anchor?" 

"  At  anchor  ?  Course  not.  No,  sir.  Moment 
the  tide  falls  again,  I'll  drift  down  so  as  to  clear  that 
I'int  there,  —  Cape  Chignocto,  —  then  anchor  ; 
then  hold  on  till  tide  rises ;  and  then  drift  up. 
Mehhe  l)efore  that  the  wind  '11  spring  up,  an  give 
ns  a  lift  somehow  up  the  bay." 

''  How  long  before  the  tide  will  turn?" 

"  Wal,  it'll  be  high  tide  at  about  a  quarter  to 
eight  this  evenin,  I  calc'late." 

"  You'll  (b'ift  in  the  night,  I  suppose." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  0,  I  di(hi't  know  but  what  the  fog  and  the  night 
together  might  be  too  much  for  you." 

"Too  much?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Fog,  and  night, 
and  snow-storms,  an  tide  dead  agin  me,  an  a  lee 
shore,  are  circumstances  that  the  Antelope  has  met 


T-^ 


50 


LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 


over  an  over,  an  fit  down.  As  to  foggy  nights, 
when  it's  as  calm  as  this,  why,  they're  not  wuth 
considerin." 

Captain  Corbet's  prognostication  as  to  the  fog 
proved  to  be  correct.  It  was  only  for  a  short  time 
that  tliey  were  allowed  to  stare  at  the  magnified 
pi'oportions  of  the  Nova  Scotia  coast  and  lie  ITaute. 
Tlion  a  change  took  place  which  attniuted  all  their 
attention. 

The  ch  .go  was  first  perceptible  down  the  bay. 
It  was  first  made  manifest  by  the  rapid  appearance 
of  a  thin  gray  cloud  (dong  the  horizon,  which 
seemed  to  take  in  both  sea  and  sky,  and  absorbed 
into  itself  the  outlines  of  both.  At  the  same  time, 
the  coast  of  Nova  S  otia  grew  more  obscure, 
though  it  lost  none  of  its  magnified  proportions, 
while  the  slaty  blue  of  He  Haute  changed  to  a 
grayer  shade. 

This  change  was  rapid,  and  was  followed  by 
other  changes.  The  thin  gray  cloud,  along  the 
south-west  horizon,  down  the  bay,  gradually  en- 
larged itself,  till  it  grew  to  larger  and  loftier  pro- 
portions. In  a  ipiarter  of  an  hour  it  had  risen  to 
the  dimensions  of  the  Nova  Scotia  coast.  In  a 
half  an  hour  it  was  towering  to  double  that  height. 
In  an  hour  its  lofty  crest  had  ascended  far  up  into 
the  sky. 

"  It's  a  comin,"  said  Captain  Corbet.  "  I  knowed 
it.  Grind  away,  you  old  fog  mill !  Pile  on  the 
steam,  you  Grand  Mananers  !  " 


""sr" 


-Tl  IPI  ■     II      ajHI 


,:i 


FOr.    WTTTIOUT    WIND. 


$i 


.J^f^ 


■-^y 


e  fog 


tl 


le 


"  Is  there  any  wind  down  there  ?  " 
''  Not  a  hooter."     . 

"  Is  tlie  fog  coming  np  without  any  wind  ?  " 
"  Course    it    is.     What    does    the    fog    want   of 
wind?" 

'^  T    tliouglit   it  was  the   wind  that   brought    it 

along." 

"  r>loss  your  h(^^rt,  the  fog  takes  care  of  itself 
TIk^  wind  isn't  a  bit  necessary.  It  kino  o'  pervades 
the  hull  atmosphere,  an  rolls  itself  oi  m  on  till  all 
creation  is  overspread.  Why,  I've  seen  everything 
changed  from  bright  sunshint;  to  the  thickest  kind 
of  fog  in  fifteen  minutes,  —  yea,  more, — and  in 
five  minutes." 

Even  while  they  were  speaking  the  fog  ndled 
on,  the  vast  accumulation  of  mist  rose  higher  and 
yet  higher,  and  ap[)e!ired  to  draw  nearer  with  im- 
mense ra])idity.  It  seemed  as  though  the  whole 
atmosphere  was  gradually  l)ecoming  condensed, 
and  pHM^ipitating  its  invisible  watery  vapor  so  as 
to  make  it  visible  in  far-extending  fog  banks.  It 
was  not  wind,  therefore,  that  brought  on  the  clouds, 
f  )r  the  surface  of  the  water  was  smooth  and  un- 
rutllcd,  but  it  was  tlie  character  of  the  atmosphere 
itself  from  which  this  change  was  wrought.  And 
still,  as  they  looked  at  the  approaching  mist,  the 
sky  overhead  was  blue,  and  tlie  sun  shone  bright. 
But  the  gathering  clouds  seemed  now  to  have  gained 
a  greater  headway,  and  came  on  more  ra[)idly.  In 
a  few  minutes  the  whole  outline  of  the  Nova  Scotia 


■&- 


'%■..■ 


M 


52 


LOST    IN   THE    FOO. 


I      i 


coast  failed  from  view,  and  in  its  place  there  ap- 
peared a  lofty  wall  of  dim  gray  cloud,  which  rose 
liigh  in  the  air,  fading  away  into  the  faintest  out- 
line. Overhead,  the  blue  sky  became  rapidly 
more  obscured;  He  Haute  changed  again  from  its 
grayish  blue  to  a  lighter  shade,  and  then  became 
blended  with  the  impenetrable  fog  that  was  liist 
enclosing  all  things;  and  finally  the  clouds  grow 
nearer,  till  the  land  nearest  them  was  snatched 
from  view,  and  all  around  was  alike  shrouded  un- 
der the  universal  veil ;  nothing  whatever  was  visi- 
ble. For  a  hundred  yards,  or  so,  around  them, 
they  could  see  the  surface  of  the  water ;  but  be- 
y(^nd  this  narrow  circle,  nothing  more  could  be 
discerned. 

"  It's  a  very  pooty  fog,"  said  Captain  Corbet, 
"  an  1  only  wonder  that  there  ain't  any  wind.  If 
it  should  come,  it'll  be  all  right." 

"  You  intend,  then,  to  go  on  just  the  same." 

"  Jest  the  same  as  ef  the  sky  was  clear.  1  will 
up  anchor  as  the  tide  begins  to  fall,  an  git  a  good 
piece  down,  so  as  to  dodge  tC^ape  Chegnecto,  an 
there  wait  for  tlic  rising  tide,  an  jest  tlie  same  as 
ef  the  sun  was  shinin.  Tint  we  can't  start  till  eidit 
o'clock  this  evonin.  Anyhow,  you  needn't  trouble 
yourselves  a  mite.  You  may  all  go  to  sleep,  an 
dream  that  the  silver  moon  is  guidin  the  traveller 
on  the  briny  deep." 

The  scene  now  was  too  monotonous  to  attract 
attention,  and  the  boys  once  more  sought  ibr  some 


4 


'i-r '■    n' 


LEGKND    OF    PETTICOAT    JACK. 


53 


mode  of  passing-  the  time.  Notliing  appeared  so 
eutieiiig  as  their  lurjiier  oecupatioii  of  lisliiii!;-,  and 
to  this  they  again  turned  tlieir  attention.  In  this 
emi)loyment  the  time  passed  away  rapidly  until 
the  summons  was  given  for  ten.  Around  the  fes- 
tive board,  vvliieli  was  again  prepared  by  Soh)m()n 
witli  his  usual  suecess,  they  lingered  long,  and  at 
lejigth,  when  they  arose,  the  tide  was  higli.  It 
was  now  about  eigiit  o'cloek  in  the  evening,  and 
Captain  Corbet  was  all  ready  to  start.  As  the  tide 
was  now  beginning  to  turn,  and  was  on  the  ebb, 
the  anehor  was  raised,  and  the  sehooner,  yielding 
to  the  pressure  of  the  current,  nujved  away  from 
her  anchorage  grouud.  It  was  still  thick,  aud 
darkness  also  was  coming  on.  Not  a  thing  could 
be  discerned,  and  by  looking  at  the  water,  which 
moved  with  the  schooner,  it  did  not  seem  as  though 
any  motion  was  made. 

"  That's  all  your  blindness,"  said  the  captain,  as 
they  mentioned  it  to  him.  *'  You  can't  see  any- 
thing but  the  water,  an  as  it  is  movin  with  us, 
it  doesn't  seem  as  though  we  were  movin.  But 
we  air,  notwitlistandin,  an  pooty  quick  too.  I'll 
take  two  liours'  drift  before  stoppin,  so  as  to  make 
sure.  1  calc'late  about  that  time  to  get'  to  a  place 
whar  I  can  hit  the  current  that'll  take  me,  with  the 
risin  tide,  up  to  old  Petticoat  Jack. 

''  ]]y  the  way,  captain,-'  said  Phil,  "  what  do  you 
seafaring  men  believe  about  the  origin  of  that 
name  —  Petitcodiae  ?     Is  it  Indian  or  French  ?  " 


54 


LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 


\ 


"  'Tiiin't  neither,"  said  CapUiiu  Corbet,  decidedly. 
*^  It's  good  English  ;  it's  '  Petticoat  Jack  ; '  an  I've 
hearn  tell  a  hundred  times  about  its  original  dery- 
vation.  You  see,  in  the  old  French  war,  there  was 
an  English  spy  among  the  French,  that  dressed  his- 
self  up  as  a  woman,  an  was  familiarly  known,  among 
the  British  generals  an  others  that  emplyM  him, 
as  '  Petticoat  Jack.'  He  did  much  to  contriboot 
to  the  defeat  of  the  French ;  an  arter  they  were 
licked,  the  first  settlers  that  went  up  thar  called 
the  place,  in  honor  of  their  benefacture,  '  Petticoat 
Jack ; '  an  it's  bore  that  name  ever  sence.  An 
people  that  think  it's  French,  or  Injinc,  or  Greek, 
or  Hebrew,  or  any  other  outlandish  tongue,  don't 
know  what  they're  talk  in  about.  Now,  /  Joioio,  an 
I  assure  you  what  I've  ben  a  sayin's  the  gosi)el 
terewth,  for  I  had  it  of  an  old  seafarin  man  that's 
sailed  this  bay  for  more'n  forty  year,  an  if  he  ain't 
good  authority,  then  I'd  like  to  know  who  is  — 
that's  all." 

At  tliis  explanation  of  the  etymology  of  the  dis- 
puted term,  the  boys  were  silent,  and  exchanged 
glances  of  admiration. 

It  was  some  minutes  after  eight  when  they  left 
their  anchorage,  and  began  to  drift  once  more. 
There  was  no  moon,  and  the  night  would  have 
been  dark  in  any  case,  but  now  the  fog  rendered 
all  things  still  more  obscure.  It  had  also  grown 
much  thicker  than  it  had  been.  At  first  it  was 
composed  of  light  vapors,  which  surroundc*!  them 


-I 


DRIFTING    IN   THE    FOG. 


55 


ly. 


IKS- 

l.g 

11. 


on  all  side>s,  it  is  true,  but  yet  did  nut  have  that 
dampness  wliicli  niiglit  have  been  expected.  It 
was  a  light,  dry  fug,  and  fur  twu  or  three  huurs 
the  deck,  and  rigging,  and  the  clothes  uf  those  on 
board  remained  (|uite  dry.  But  now,  as  the  dark- 
ness increased,  the  fug  became  denser,  and  Avas 
mure  surcharged  with  heavy  vapurs.  Soun  tlie 
deck  louked  as  thuugh  it  had  received  a  shower  oi' 
rain,  and  the  cluthes  of  those  on  board  began  to 
be  penetrated  with  the  chill  damp. 

"  It's  very  dark,  captain,"  said  Bruce,  at  last,  as 
the  boys  stoud  near  the  stern. 

''  Dradful  dark,"  said  the  captain,  thoughtfully. 

''  Have   you   really  a  good    idea  of  where  wo 


are  r 


.  ?  " 


"  An  .idee  ?  Why,  if  I  had  a  chart,  —  which  I 
haven't,  cos  I've  got  it  all  mapped  out  in  my  head, 
—  but  if  I  had  one,  I  could  take  my  linger  an  j)int 
tlie  exact  spot  wdiere  we  are  a  driftin  this  blessed 
minute." 

"  You're  going  straight  down  the  bay,  I  sup- 
pose." 

'' Riglit  —  yea,  I  am;  I'm  guin  straight  duwn ; 
but  I  hope  an  trust,  an  wliat's  mure,  I  believe,  I  am 
taking  a  kine  o'  cant  ever  niglier  the  New  Bruns- 
wick shure." 

''  How  long  will  wo  drift?  " 

"  Wal,  for  about  two  hours  —  darsn't  drift  longer ; 
an  besides,  don't  want  to." 

"  Wliy  not?" 


56 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


4 


"  Darsn't.  Tliar's  a  place  down  tliar  that  every 
vessel  on  this  here  bay  steers  clear  of,  an  every 
navigator  feels  dreadful  sliy  of." 

"What  place  is  tirit?" 

"  Quaco  Ledge,"  saia  Captain  Corbet,  in  a  solemn 
tone.  "  We'll  get  as  near  it  as  is  safe  this  night, 
an  p'aps  a  leetie  nearer;  but,  tlien,  the  water's  so 
calm  and  still,  that  it  won't  make  any  dilfercnce  — 
in  fact,  it  wouldn't  matter  a  great  deal  if  we  came 
up  close  to  it." 

"  Quaco  Ledge  ?  "  said  Bruce.  "  I've  heard  of 
that." 

"Heard  of  it?  I  should  rayther  hope  you  had. 
Who  hasn't?  It's  the  one  great,  gen'ral,  an  stand- 
in  terror  of  this  dangerous  and  iron-bound  bay. 
There's  no  jokin,  no  nonsense  about  Quaco  Ledge  ; 
mind  I  tell  you." 

"  Where  does  it  lie  ?  "  asked  Phil,  after  a  pause. 

"  Wal,  do  you  know  wliar  Quaco  settlement  is?" 

"Yes." 

"  Wal,  Quaco  Ledge  is  nigli  about  half  way  be- 
tween Quaco  settlement  and  He  Haute,  bein  a'most 
in  the  middle  of  the  bay,  an  in  a  terrible  danger- 
ous place  for  coasters,  especially  in  a  fog,  or  in  a 
snow-storm.  Many's  the  vessel  that's  gone  an 
never  heard  of,  that  Quaco  Ledge  could  tell  all 
about,  if  it  could  speak.  You  take  a  good  snow- 
storm in  this  Bay  of  Fundy,  an  let  a  schooner  get 
lost  in  it,  an  not  know  whar  she  is,  an  if  Quaco 
Ledge  don't  bring  her  up  all  standin,  then  I'm  a 
Injine." 


QUACO    LEDGE.  67' 

"  Is  it  a  large  place  ?  "  i 

,:  "  Considerably  tuo  large   for  comfort,"  said   the 

captain.     "  They've  sounded  it,  an  found  the  whole 
;  slioal  al)out  three  an  a  half  mile  long,  an  a  half  a 

mile  broad.  It's  all  kivered  over  with  water  at 
high  tide,  l)ut  at  half  tide  it  begins  to  s1k)\v  its 
nose,  an  at  low  tide  you  see  as  pooty  a  shoal  for 
shi|)\vrecking  as  you  may  want;  rayther  low  with 
pleasant  jagged  rocks  at  the  nothe-east  side,  an 
about  a  hundred  yards  or  so  in  extent.  IVo  been 
nigli  on  to  it  in  clear  weather,  but  don't  want  to  bo 
within  five  miles  of  it  in  a  fog  or  in  a  storm.  In 
a  thick  night  like  this,  I'll  pull  up  before  I  get 
close." 

"  You've  never  met  with  any  accident  there,  I 
suppose." 

"  Me  ?     No,  not  me.     I  always  calc'late  to  give 
Quaco  Ledge  the  widest  kine  o'  berth.     An  I  hope- 
you'll  never  know  anythin  more  about  that  sauio 
})lace  than  what  I'm  tellin  you  now.     The  knowl- 
4^:  ege  which  one  has  about  that  place,  an  places  gin- 

rally  of  that  kine,  comes  better  by  hearsay  than 
from  actool  observation." 

Time  passed  on,  and  they  still  drifted,  and  at 
.■^\  length  ten  o'clock  came  ;  but  before  that  time  the 

boys  had  gone  below,  and  retired  for  the  night. 
Shortly  after,  the  rattle  of  the  chains  waked  them 
all,  and  informed  them  that  the  Antelope  had  an- 
chored onco  more. 

After  this  they  all  fell  asleep. 


.j£I-_ 


58 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


IV. 


In  Clouds  and  Darkness.  —  A  terrible  Warning.  — 
Nearly  run  doivn.  —  A  livel//  Plaee.  —  Bart 
encounters  an  old  Acquaiidance.  —  Launehed 
into  the  Deej).  —  Tkrowjh  the  Country.  —  IVic 
swift   Tide.  —  The  lost  Boy. 


^IIE  boys  liad  not  been  asleep  for  more  than 
two  liours,  wlioii  tliey  were  awakened  by  aii 
ii})roar  on  deek,  and  rouriing  themselves  from 
sleep,  they  heard  the  rattle  of  the  cliains  and  the 
clank  of  the  windlass.  As  their  niglit  attire  was 
singularly  sinii)le,  and  consisted  largely  of  the  dress 
wliich  they  wore  by  day,  being  the  same,  in  fact, 
with  the  exception  of  the  hat,  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore they  were  up  on  deck,  and  making  iniiuirics 
as  to  the  unusual  noise.  That  the  anchor  was  being 
hoisted  they  already  knew,  but  why  it  was  they 
did  not. 

"  Wal,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  ''  thar's  a  good  sou- 
wester  started  up,  an  as  I  Iiad  a  few  winks  o'  sleep, 
I  jest  thought  I'd  try  to  push  on  up  the  bay,  an 
get  as  far  as  J.  could.  If  I'd  bcii  in  any  otlior 
place  than  this,  I  wouldn't  liev  minded,  but  IM  hev 


■  ^«"  j>«.^  .>"iim>. 


CLOUDS    AND    DARKNESS. 


59 


taken  iny  snooze  out ;  but  I'm  too  uear  Quaco  Ledge 
by  a  good  sigbt,  an  would  rayther  get  i'urther  off. 
The  aou-wester'U  take  us  up  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, an  if  it  holds  on  till  arter  the  tide  turns,  I 
ask  no  more." 

Soon  the  anchor  was  up,  and  the  Antelope  spread 
her  sails,  and  catching  the  sou-wester,  dashed 
through  the  water  like  a  thing  of  life. 

^'  We'i'o  going  along  at  a  great  rate,  captain," 
said  Bart. 

''  Beggin  your  pardon,  young  sir,  we're  nut  doin 
much.  The  tide  here  runs  fuur  knots  agin  us  — 
dead,  an  the  wind  can't  take  us  more'n  six,  which 
leaves  a  balance  to  our  favor  of  two  knots  an  hour, 
an  that  is  our  present  rate  of  progression.  You 
sec,  at  that  rate  we  won't  gain  more'n  four  or  five 
nu"I  ;s  before  the  turn  o'  tide.  After  that,  we'll  go 
faster  without  any  wind  than  we  do  now  with  a 
wind.  0,  there's  nothin  like  navigatin  the  Bay  o' 
Fundy  to  make  a  man  feel  contempt  for  the  wind. 
Give  me  tides  an  anchors,  I  say,  an  I'll  push  along." 

^Phe  wind  was  blowing  fresh,  and  the  sea  was 
rising,  yet  the  fog  seemed  thicker  than  ever.  The 
boys  thought  that  the  wind  might  blow  the  fog 
away,  and  hinted  this  to  the  captain. 

Ilis  only  response  was  a  long  and  emphatic 
whistle. 

"  Whe-e-e-ow  !  what !  Blow  the  fog  away  ?  This 
wind?  Why,  this  wind  brings  the  fog.  The  sou- 
wester  is  the  one  wind  that  seafarin  men  dread  in 


''.'% 


A 


60 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


tlic  Biiy  oi'  Fiindy.  Al)oiit  tlic  wiist  kinc  ol'  a  st(»nn 
is  that  tliur  very  idciiticul  wind  bluwiii  in  these  here 
very  identical  waters." 

Captain  Corbet's  words  were  confirmed  l)y  the 
appearance  of  sea  and  sky.  Outside  was  the  very 
blackness  of  darkness.  Notliing  whatever  was 
visible.  Sea  and  sky  were  alike  hidden  fi-oin  view. 
The  waves  were  rising,  and  though  they  were  not 
yet  of  any  size,  still  they  made  noise  enongli  to 
suggest  the  idea  of  a  considerable  storm,  and  the 
wind,  as  it  wdn'stled  through  the  rigging,  carried  in 
its  sound  a  menace  which  would  have  been  alto- 
getlier  wanting  in  a  briglit  night.  The  boys  all 
felt  convinced  that  a  storm  was  rising,  and  looked 
forward  to  a  dismal  experience  of  the  i)angs  of  sea- 
sickness. To  fight  this  off  now  became  tlieir  chief 
aim,  and  with  this  intention  they  all  hurried  be- 
low once  more  to  their  beds. 

But  the  water  was  not  rough,  the  motion  of  the 
schooner  was  gentle,  and  though  there  was  much 
noise  above,  yet  they  did  not  notice  any  approach 
of  the  dreaded  sea-sickness,  iXnd  so  in  a  short  time 
they  all  fell  asleep  once  more. 

But  they  were  destined  to  have  further  inter- 
ruptions. The  interruption  came  this  time  in  a  loud 
cry  from  Solomon,  whicli  waked  them  all  at  once. 

"  Get  up,  chil'en  !  get  up  !     It's  all  over !  " 

"What,  what!"  cried  the  boys;  "  what's  the 
matter?"  and  springing  iip  in  the  first  moment  of 
alarm,  they  stood  listening. 


i  L_. 


A   TERRTRLE   WARNING.  •  Gl  ^ 

' .  .;■*■ 

As  tlicy  stood^  there  came  to  tliclr  ears  the  roar- 
ing- of  the  wind  througli  the  riggings  the  (Japping 
ot  the  sails,  the  dashing  and  roai-ing  of  the  waters, 
in  the  midst  of  wliicli  there  came  also  a  shrill,  pene- 
trating sound,  which  seemed  almost  overhead  — 
tlie  sound  of  some  steam  whistle. 

"  Dar,  dar  !  "  cried  Solomon,  in  a  tone  of  deadly 
fear.  '•  It's  a  comin  !  I  knowcd  it.  We're  all  lost 
an  g(»no.  It's  a  steamer.  We're  all  run  down  an 
drownded." 

Without  a  word  of  response,  the  boys  once  more 
clambered  on  deck.  All  was  as  dark  as  before, 
the  fog  as  thick,  the  scene  around  as  impenetra- 
ble, tlie  wind  as  strong.  From  a  distance  there 
came  over  the  water,  as  they  listened,  the  rapid 
l>eat  of  a  steamboat's  paddles,  and  soon  there  arose 
again  the  long,  shrill  yell  of  the  steam  whistle. 
Th(^y  looked  all  around,  but  saw  no  sign  of  any 
steamer;  nor  could  they  tell  exactly  in  which  di- 
rection the  sound  arose.  One  thought  it  came  from 
one  side,  another  thought  it  came  from  the  opposite 
([uarter,  while  the  others  diiTered  from  these.  As  for 
Captain  Corbet,  he  said  nothing,  while  the  boys  were 
expressing  their  opinions  loudly  and  confidently. 

At  last  Bart  appealed  to  Captain  Corbet. 

"  Where  is  the  steamer?  " 

**  Down  thar,"  said  the  captain,  waving  In's  hnnd 
over  the  stern. 

"  What  steamer  is  it?  the  revenue  steamer?" 
^   "  Not  her.     That  revenoo  steamer  is  up  to  Wind- 


62 


LOST  IN  THE   FoG. 


sor  by  this  time.  No ;  this  is  tlie  St.  John  steamer 
coming  up  the  bay,  an  I  ony  wish  she'd  take  us  an 
give  us  a  tow  up." 

"  She  seems  to  be  close  by." 

"  She  is  close  by." 

"  Isn't  there  some  clanger  that  we'll  be  run 
down  ? " 

As  tliose  words  were  spoken,  another  yell,  loud- 
er, shriller,  and  nearer  than  before,  burst  upon 
tlieir  ears.  It  seemed  to  be  close  astern.  The 
beat  of  the  paddles  was  also  near  them. 

"  Pooty  close  !  "  said  the  captain. 

''  Isn't  there  some  danger  that  we'll  be  run 
down  ?  " 

To  tliis  question,  thus  anxiously  repeated,  the 
captain  answered  slowly,  — 

"  Wal,  thar  may  be,  an  then  again  tliar  mayn't. 
Efaman  tries  to  dodge  every  possible  danger  in 
life,  he'll  have  a  precious  hard  time  of  it.  Why, 
men  air  killed  in  walkin  the  streets,  or  knocked 
over  by  sun-strokes,  as  well  as  run  down  at  sea. 
So  what  air  we  to  do?  Do?  Why,  I  jest  do  what 
I've  alius  ben  a  dgin ;  I  jest  keep  right  straight  on 
my  own  course,  and  mind  my  own  biz.  Ten  chances 
to  one  they'll  never  come  nigh  us.  I've  heard 
steamers  howlin  round  me  like  all  possessed,  but 
I've  never  ben  run  down  yet,  an  I  ain't  goin  to  be 
at  my  time  o'  life.  I  don't  blieve  you'll  see  a  sign 
o'  that  thar  isteamer.  You'll  only  hear  her  yellin 
—  that's  all."  .  , 


( 


VAiV 


1 


%- 


NEARLY    RUN   DOWN. 


53 


run 


'm 


As  ho  spoke  another  yell  sounded. 

"  She's  a  passin  us,  over  thar,"  said  the  captain, 
waving  his  hand  over  the  side.  "  Her  whistlo'll 
contenoo  fainter  till  it  stops.  So  you  better  go 
below  and  take  your  sleep  out." 

The  boys  waited  a  little  longer,  and  hearing  the 
next  whistle  sounding  fainter,  as  Captain  Corbet 
said,  they  followed  his  advice,  and  were  soon  asleep, 
as  before. 

This  time  there  was  no  further  interruption,  and 
they  did  not  wake  till  about  eight  in  the  moining, 
when  they  were  summoned  to  breakfast  by  Solo- 
mon. ^ 

On  reaching  the  deck  and  looking  around,  a  cry 
of  joy  went  forth  from  all.  The  fog  was  no  longer 
to  be  seen,  no  longer  did  there  extend  around  them 
the  wall  of  gloomy  gray,  shutting  out  all  things 
with  its  misty  folds.  No  longer  was  the  broad  bay 
visible.  They  found  themselves  now  in  a  wide 
river,  Whose  muddy  waters  bore  them  slowly  along. 
On  one  side  was  a  shore,  close  by  them,  well 
wooded  in  some  places,  and  in  others  well  culti- 
vated, while  on  the  other  side  was  another  shore, 
equally  fertile,  extending  far  along. 

"  Here  we  air,"  cried  Captain  Corbet.  "  That 
wind  served  us  well.  We've  had  a  fust-rate  run. 
I  calc'lated  we'd  be  three  or  four  davs,  but  instead 
ol'  that  we've  walked  over  in  twenty -four  hours, 
(lood  agin  !  "  • 

"  Will  we  be  able  to  land  at  Moncton  soon  ?  " 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


"  Wal,  no ;  not  till  the  next  tide." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Wal,  this  tide  won't  last  long  enough  to  carry 
us  up  thar,  an  so  we'll  have  to  wait  here.  This  is 
the  best  place  thar  is." 

"What  place  is  this?" 

"  Hillsborough." 

"Hillsborough?" 

"Yes.  Do  you  see  that  thar  pint?"  and  Cap- 
tain Corbet  waved  his  arm  towards  a  high,  well- 
wooded  promontory  that  jutted  out  into  the  river. 

"Yes."   • 

"  Wal,  I'm  goin  in  behind  that,  and  I'll  wait  thar 
till  the  tide  turns.  We'll  get  up  to  Moncton  some 
time  before  evenin." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  Antelope  was  heading  to- 
wards the  promontory  ;  and  soon  she  passed  it,  and 
advanced  towards  the  shore.  On  passing  the  prom- 
ontory a  sight  appeared  wln'ch  at  once  attracted 
the  whole  attention  of  the  boys. 

Immediately  in  front  of  them,  in  the  sheltered 
place  which  was  formed  by  the  promontory,  was  a 
little  settlement,  and  on  the  bank  of  the  river  was 
a  ship-yard.  Here  there. arose  the  stately  outline 
of  a  large  ship.  Her  lower  masts  were  in,  she  was 
decorated  with  flags  and  streamers,  and  a  large 
crowd  was  assembled  in  the  yard  around  her. 

"  There's  going  to  be  a  launch  ! "  cried  Bart,  to 
whom  a  scene  like  this  was  familiar. 

"  A  launch  !  "  cried  Bruce.    "  Hurrah  !    We'll  be 


SOLOMON  ANNOUNCES  BREAKFAST.       65 

able  to  see  it.  I've  never  seen  one  in  my  life. 
Now's  the  time." 

"  Can't  we  get  ashore  ?  "  said  Arthur. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Phil ;  ''  and  perhaps  they'll  let 
us  go  on  board  and  be  launched  in  her." 

The  very  mention  of  such  a  thing  increased  the 
general  excitement.  Captain  Corbet  was  at  once 
appealed  to. 

"  O,  thar's  lots  of  time,"  said  he.  "  'Tain't  quite 
high  tide  yet.  You'll  have  time  to  get  ashore  be- 
fore she  moves.     Hullo,  Wade  !    Whar's  that  oar  ?  " 

The  boys  were  all  full  of  the  wildest  excitement, 
in  the  midst  of  which  Solomon  appeared  with  the 
'^;        announcement  that  breakfast  was  waiting. 

To  which  Bart  replied,  — 

"  0,  bother  breakfast !  " 

•'  I  don't  want  any,"  said  Bruce. 

"  I  have  no  appetite,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Pat. 

"  I  want  to  be  on  board  that  ship,"  said  Phil. 

"  We  can  easily  eat  breakfast  afterwards,"  said 
Tom. 

At  this  manifest  neglect  of  his  cooking,  poor 

*  dL     ^t)lomon   looked  quite  heart-broken  ;  but  Captain 

Corbet  told  him  that  he  might  bring  the  things 

ashore,  and   this  in  some  measure  assuaged   his 

grief 

It  did  not  take  long  to  get  ready.  The  oar  was 
flung  on  board  the  boat,  which  had  thus  far  been 
floating  behind  the  schooner ;  and  though  the  boat 

5 


M 


:^  ^*    ^ 


GG 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


liad  a  little  too  much  water  on  board  to  be  comfort- 
fible,  yet  no  complaints  were  made,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  they  were  landed. 

"  How  much  time  have  we  yet  ? "  asked  Bart, 
''  before  high  tide  ?  " 

"  (),  you've  got  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,"  said 
Captain  (/orbet. 

"  IFurraii,  boys  !  Come  along,"  said  Bart ;  and 
leading  the  way,  he  went  straight  to  the  oflice. 

As  ho  approached  it  he  uttered  suddenly  a  cry 
of  Joy. 

"  Wliat's  the  matter,  Bart  ?  " 

Bart  said  nothing,  but  hurried  forward,  and  the 
astonished  boys  saw  him  shaking  hands  very  vigor- 
ously with  a  gentleman  who  seemed  like  the  chief 
man  on  the  place.  He  was  an  old  acquaintance,  evi- 
dently. In  a  few  minutes  all  was  explained.  As 
the  boys  came  up,  Bart  introduced  them  as  his 
friends,  and  they  were  all  warmly  greeted ;  after 
which  the  gentleman  said, — 

"  Wliy,  what  a  crowd  of  you  there  is  !  Follow 
me,  now.  There's  plenty  of  room  for  you,  I  im- 
agine, in  a  ship  of  fifteen  hundred  tons ;  and  you've 
just  come  in  time." 

Wit) I  these  words  he  hurried  off,  followed  by  all 
the  boys.  He  led  tlie  way  up  an  inclined  plane 
which  ran  up"  to  the  bows  of  the  ship,  and  on  reach- 
ing this  place  they  went  along  a  staging,  and  finally, 
coming  to  a  ladder,  they  clambered  up,  and  found 
themselves  on  the  deck  of  the  ship. 


THE   LAUNCH. 


07 


fort- 
few 

Bart, 

said 

;  and 

-/• 
a  cry 

id  the 
vigor- 
chief 
e,  cvi- 
1.  As 
as  his 
after 

Follow 
I  im- 
yoii've 

by  all 
plane 

i  reach- 
finally, 

1  found 


S! 


"  I  must  leave  you  now,  Bart,  my  boy,"  said  the 
gentleman ;  "  you  go  to  the  quarter-deck  and  take 
care  of  yourselves.     I  nnist  go  down  again." 

"  Wlio  in  the  world  is  he,  Bart  ? "  asked  the 
boys,  ;  ;  they  all  stood  on  the  quarter-deck. 

"Was  there  ever  sueli  hick!"  cried  Bart,  joy- 
ously. "  Tliis  is  the  sliip  Sylph,  and  tliat  is  JMr. 
Watson,  and  he  has  bniU  this  ship  for  my  fiilh(M'. 
Isn't  it  odd  that  we  should  come  to  this  })Imco  at 
this  particular  time  ?  " 

"  Why,  it's  as  good  as  a  play." 

*' Of  course  it  is.  I've  known  Mr.  Watson  all 
my  life,  and  he's  one  of  the  best  men  I  over  met 
witl).  lie  was  as  glad  to  see  me  as  1  was  to  see 
hhn." 

But  wow  the  boys  stopped  talking,  for  the  scone 
around  them  began  to  grow  exciting.  In  front  ol' 
them  was  tlie  settlement,  and  in  the  yard  below 
was  a  crowd  wlio  had  assembled  to  see  the  launch. 
Behind  them  was  the  broad  expanse  of  the  Petit- 
codiac  River,  beyond  which  lay  the  oj)posite  shore, 
which  went  back  till  it  terminated  in  wooded 
hills.  Overhead  arose  the  masts,  adorned  with  a 
hundred  flags  and  streamers.  Tlio  deck  showed  a 
steep  slope  from  bow  to  stern.  But  the  scone 
around  was  nothing,  compared  with  the  excitement 
of  suspense  and  ex})e('tation.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  hannners  were  to  sound.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
mighty  fidu-ic  on  which  they  were  standing  would 
move,  ami  tnke  its  plunge  into  the  water. 


t  ' 


08 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


The  suspense  made  them  huld  theip  Ijreath,  and 
wait  in  perfect  silence. 

Around  them  were  a  few  men,  wlio  were  talking 
in  a  commonplace  way.  Tiicy  were  accustomed 
to  launclies,  and  an  incident  like  this  was  as  noth- 
ing in  their  lives,  though  to  the  bi^ys  it  was  suf- 
ficient to  make  their  hearts  throb  violently,  and 
deprive  them  of  the  power  of  speech. 

A  few  minutes  passed. 

"  We  ought  to  start  soon,"  said  Bart,  in  a  whis- 
per; for  there  was  something  in  the  scene  which 
made  them  feel  Q-ravc  and  solemn. 

The  other  l)oys  nodded  in  silence. 

A  few  minutes  more  passed. 

Then  there  arose  a  cry. 

And  tliim  suddenly  there  came  to  their  excited 
ears  the  rattle  of  a  hundred  hammers.  Stroke 
ni'Uw  stroke,  in  quick  snccession,  was  dealt  upon 
the  wedges,  which  thus  raised  the  vast  structure 
from  her  resting-i)lace.  For  a  moment  she  stood 
motionless,  and  then  — 

Then  with  a  slow  motion,  at  first  scarce  percep- 
tible, but  which  every  instant  grew  quicker,  sho 
moved  down  her  ways,  and  plunged  like  lightning 
into  the  water.  The  stern  sank  deep,  then  rose, 
and  then  the  shij)  darted  through  the  water  across 
the  river.  Then  siuldenly  tiie  anchor  was  let  go, 
and  with  the  loud,  shaip  raltle  of  chains,  rushed  to 
the  bed  of  the  river.  ^Vith  a  slight  jerk  the  ship 
stopped. 


%*■ 


MR.  Watson's  hospitality. 


CO 


The  lauiicli  wiiri  over. 

A  bout  now  Clinic  from  the  .sliorc,  bringing  the 
buihlcr,  Mi'.  Watson  ;  and  at  the  «anic  time  a  steamer 
appeared,  rounding  a  point  up  the  river,  and  ap- 
proaidiing  them. 

''  Do  you  want  to  go  to  St.  Jolin,  Bart?" 

''  Not  just  yet,  sir,"  said  Hart. 

"  ]>ccause  if  you  do  you  can  go  down  in  tlie  ship. 
Tiie  steamer  is  going  to  take  her  in  tow  at  once. 
I>iit  if  you  don't  want  to  go,  you  may  go  ashore  in 
the  boat.  I'm  soriy  I  can't  stay  here  to  sliow  you 
tlie  country,  my  boy ;  but  1  liave  to  go  down  in  the 
sliij»,  and  at  once,  for  we  can't  He  here  in  tlie  river, 
unless  we  want  to  be  left  high  and  dry  at  low  tide. 
I^o  iiood  bv.  Go  to  the  house.  Mrs.  Watson'll 
make  you  comfortable  as  long  as  you  like ;  and  if 
you  want  to  lake  a  drive  you  may  consider  my 
liorses  your  own." 

With  these  words  he  shook  hands  v,'itli  all  the 
boys  for  good  by,  and  after  seeing  them  safely  on 
board  the  boat,  he  waited  lor  the  steamer  which  was 
to  tow  the  Syljdi  down  the  bay.  The  boys  thou 
were  rowed  ashore.  !>)'  the  time  they  lauded,  the 
steamer  had  reached  the  ship,  a  stout  cable  was 
passed  on  board  and  secured,  her  anchor  was 
Weighed,  and  then,  borne  on  by  steam,  and  by  the 
tide,  too,  which  had  already  turned,  the  Hyll)h,  in 
towof  tho  steamer,  passed  down  the  river,  and  was 
soon  out  o^'  sight. 

Bart  thou  went  to  see  Mrs.  Watson,  with  all  tlio 


n 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


hoys.  That  lady,  like  lior  husband,  was  an  ohl  ac- 
quaintance, and  in  the  true  spirit  uf  huspitaHty 
insisted  on  every  one  of  them  taking  up  their 
abode  vvitli  her  for  an  indefinite  jicriod.  Finduig 
that  they  could  not  do  this,  she  prepared  for  them 
a  bounteous  breakfast,  and  then  persuaded  them  to 
go  oir  for  a  drive  through  the  country.  Tiiis  invi- 
tation they  eagerly  accepted. 

Before  starting,  they  encountered  Captain  Cor- 
bet. 

"  Don't  hurry  back,  boys,"  said  he,  "  unless  you 
very  pertikTry  wish  to  go  up  to  Moncton  by  the 
arternoon  tide.  Don't  mind  me.  I  got  several 
things  to  occoopy  me   here." 

"  What  time  could  we  start  up  river  ?  " 

"  Not  before  four." 

"  0,  we'll  be  back  by  that  time." 

'*  W  al.  Ony  don't  hurry  back  unless  you  like. 
1  got  to  buy  some  ship-bread,  an  1  got  to  fix  some 
things  about  the  boat.  It'll  take  some  time;  so  jest 
do  as  you  like." 

Joeing  thus  left  to  their  own  devices,  and  feel- 
ing (piite  unlimited  with  regard  to  time,  the  boys 
started  off  in  two  wagons,  and  took  a  long  drive 
through  the  country.  The  time  passed  (piickly» 
and  they  enjoyed  themselves  so  much  that  they  did 
not  get  back  until  dusk. 

"  It's  too  late  now,  boys,  to  go  up,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, as  ho  met  them  on  their  return.  "  We've  got 
to  wait  till  next  tide.     It's  nearly  high  tide  now." 


■lis 


-I 


n 


;'.«. 


SUPPLIES    FOR   TUlO   SCHOONER. 


71 


is 


"  All  right,  capttiiii ;  it'll  do  just  as  well  to  go 
up  river  to-niglit." 

"  Amen,"  said  tlie  captain. 

But  now  Mrs.  Watson  insisted  on  their  staying 
to  tea,  and  so  it  happened  that  it  was  after  nine 
o'clock  before  they  were  ready  to  go  on  board  the 
Antelope.  Going  down  to  the  shore,  they  found 
the  boat  ready,  with  some  articles  which  Captain 
Corbet  had  procured. 

'*  I've  been  fixing  the  gunwales,"  said  he ;  "  au 
here's  a  box  of  pilot-bread.  We  were  gettin  out 
of  provisions,  an  I've  got  in  a  sup})ly,  an  I've 
bought  a  bit  of  an  old  sail  that'll  do  for  a  jib.  I'm 
afeard  tliar  won't  be  room  for  all  of  us.  Some  of 
you  better  stay  ashore,  an  I'll  come  back." 

"  I'll  wait,"  said  Bart,  taking  his  seat  on  a  stick 
of  timber. 

"  An  I'll  wait,  too,"  said  Bruce. 

The  other  boys  objected  in  a  friendly  way,  but 
Bart  and  liruce  insisted  on  waiti'ig,  and  so  the 
boat  at  length  started,  leaving  them  behind. 

In  a  short  time  it  reached  the  schooner. 

Ca})tain  Corbet  secured  the  boat's  painter  to  tlio 
stem,  and  threw  the  oar  on  board. 

"  Now,  boys,  one  of  you  stay  in  the  boat,  an 
pass  up  them  things  to  me  —  will  you  ?  " 

"  All  right,"  said  Tom.     "  I'll  pass  them  up." 

On  this  Captain  Corbet  got  on  board  the  schooner, 
followed  by  Arthur,  and  Phil,  and  Pat.  Tom  wait- 
ed in  the  boat.  *. 


72 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


"  Now,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  ''  lift  up  that  tlmr 
box  of  pilot-broad  fust.  'Tain't  heavy.  We'll  get 
these  things  out  afore  wo  go  ashore  for  the 
others." 

"  All  right,"  said  Tom. 

He  stooped,  and  took  the  box  of  bJicuit  in  his 
arms. 

At  that  time  the  tide  was  running  down  very 
fast,  and  the  boat,  caught  by  the  tide,  was  forced 
out  from  the  schooner  with  such  a  pressure  that 
the  rope  was  stiffened  out  straight. 

Tom  made  one  step  forward.  The  next  instant 
he  fell  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  those 
on  board  of  the  schooner  who  were  looking  at  him 
saw,  to  their  horror,  that  the  boat  was  sweeping 
away  with  the  tide,  far  down  the  river. 


'f». 


WHAT  CAN  WE  DO? 


73 


V. 


,f 


A  Cry  of  Horror.  —  What  shall  we  do  ?  —  Ilard 
and  fast.  —  Bart  and  Brace.  —  Gloomy  Intelli- 
gence. —  The  Promontory.  —  The  Bore  cf  the 
Pet'itcodiac.  —  A  Night  of  Misery.  —  A  mourn- 
ful  Waking.  —  Taking  Counsel. 

CRY  of  horror  escaped  those  on  board,  and 
for  some  time  they  stood  silent  in  utter  dis- 
may. 

''  The  rope  wasn't  tied,"  groaned  Arthur. 
"  Yes,  it  was,"  said  Captain  Corbet ;  "  it  bruk  ; 
catch  me  not  tyin  it.  It  bruk  ;  see  hero  !  '■  and  ho 
held  up  in  the  dim  hght  the  end  of  the  rope  wliich 
still  was  fastened  to  the  schooner.  "  I  didn't  know 
it  was  rotten,"  he  moaned  ;  "  'tain't  over  ten  year 
old,  that  bit  o'  rope,  an  I've  had  it  an  used  it  a 
thousand  times  without  its  ever  thinkin  o'  break- 


in. 


n 


"  What  can  wo  do?  "  cried  Arthur.     "Wo  must 
do  something  to  save  him." 
Captain  Corbet  shook  his  head. 
"  We've  got  no  boat,"  said  he. 
"  Boat  I    Who  wants 'a  boat  ?  " 


«i 


> 


74 


LOST    IN   THE   FOG. 


"  What  ctui  WG  do  without  a  b-^at  ?  " 

"  Why,  up  anchor,  and  go  after  him  with  the 
schooner." 

"  The  schooner's  hard  and  fast,"  said  Captain 
Corbet,  mournfully. 

'^  Hard  and  fast  ?  " 

''Yes;  don't  you  notice  how  she  leans?  It's 
only  a  little,  but  that's  a  sign  that  her  keel's  in  the 
mud." 

'*  I  don't  believe  it !  I  won't  believe  it !  "  cried 
Arthur.     "  Come,  boys,  up  with  the  anchor."^ 

As  the  boys  rushed  to  the  windlass,  Captain 
Corbet  went  there,  too,  followed  by  the  mate,  and 
they  worked  at  it  for  some  time,  until  at  last  the 
anchor  rose  to  the  surface. 

But  the  Antelope  did  not  move.  On  the  con- 
trary, a  still  greater  list  to  one  side,  which  was  now 
unmistakable,  showed  that  the  captain  was  right, 
and  that  she  was  actually,  as  he  said,  hard  and  fast. 
This  fact  had  to  be  recognized,  but  Arthur  would 
not  be  satisfied  until  he  had  actually  seen  the  an- 
chor, and  then  ho  knew  that  the  vessel  was  really 
aground. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  cried  at  last,  "  that 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  what  thar 
is  to  be  done  till  the  schewner  muvQs." 

''When  will  that  be?" 

"  Not  till  to-morrow  mornin." 

"How  early?" 


HARD    AND    FAST. 


76 


'* 

■^ 


:>»• 

•'.:'*'*)" 


"•  Not  before  eight  o'clock." 

'*  Eight  o'clock  !  "  cried  Arthur,  in  horror. 

"  Yes,  eight  o'clock.  You  see  we  had  to  come 
in  i)ooty  nigh  to  the  shore,  im  it'll  be  eight  o'clock 
bel'ore  we're  floated." 

^' And  what'll  become  of  poor  Tom?"  groaned 
Artiiur. 

"  Wal,"  said  the  captain,  "  don't  look  on  the 
wust.     He  may  get  ashore." 

"  lie  has  no  oar.  The  oar  was  thrown  aboard 
of  the  schooner." 

"  Still  he  may  be  carried  ashore." 

*'  Is  there  any  chance  ?  " 

"  Wal,  not  much,  to  tell  the  truth.  Thar's  no 
use  uf  buo-oyin  of  ourselves  up  with  false  hopes  ; 
not  a  mite.  Thar's  a  better  chance  of  his  bein 
l)icked  up.  That  thar's  likely  now,  an  not  un- 
natooral.  Let's  all  don't  give  up.  If  thar's  no  fog 
outside,  I'd  say  his  chances  air  good." 

''  Ihit  it  may  be  foggy." 

"  Tiien,  in  that  case,  he'll  have  to  drift  a  while  — 
sure." 

''  Tiien  there's  no  hope." 

*'  Hope?  Who's  a  sayin  thar's  no  hope?  Why, 
hM)k  here;  he's  got  provisions  on  board, an  needn't 
starve ;  so  if  ho  does  float  for  a  day  or  two,  whar's 
the  harm?  lie's  sure  to  be  picked  up  eventoo- 
ally." 

At  this  moment  their  ctmversation  was  inter- 
rupt(;d  by  a  loud  call  from  the  promontory.  It 
was  the  voice  of  Bruce. 


n 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


/ ' 


While  those  events  had  been  taking  [)laee  on 
buard  the  sehooner,  Bruee  and  Bart  liad  been 
asliure.  At  first  they  liad  waited  patiently  I'ur  the 
return  of  the  boat,  but  finally  they  wondered  at 
her  delay.  They  had  called,  but  the  schooner  was 
too  far  olF  to  hear  them.  Then  they  waited  lor 
what  seemed  to  them  an  unreasonably  long  time, 
wondering  what  kept  the  boat,  until  at  length 
Bruce  determined  to  try  and  get  nearer.  J]art 
was  to  stay  behind  in  case  tlie  boat  should  come 
ashore  in  his  absence.  With  this  in  view  he  had 
walked  down  the  promontory  until  he  had  reached 
the  extreme  point,  and  there  he  found  himself 
within  easy  hail  of  the  Antelope. 

''  Schooner  ahoy  !  "  he  cried. 

"  A-ho-o-o-o-y  !  "  cried  Captain  Corbet. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  and  take  us  off? ''  ho 
cried. 

After  this  there  was  silence  for  some  time.  At 
last  Captain  Corl)et  shouted  out, — 

"  The  boat's  lost." 

*'  What ! " 

"  The  boat's  adrift." 

Captain  Corbet  said  nothing  about  Tom,  from  a 
desire  to  spare  him  for  the  present.  So  Bruce 
thought  that  the  empty  boat  had  drifted  off,  and 
as  ho  had  been  prepared  to  hear  of  some  accident, 
ho  was  not  nmch  sur{)rised. 

But  ho  was  not  to  remain  long  in  ignorance.  In 
a  few  moments  ho  heard  Arthur's  voice. 


% 

4 


t 
■  *4 

-V 


GLOOMY    INTELLIGENCE. 


77 


''  Bruce  !  " 

'^  Hallo  ! " 

''  The  boat's  gone." 

"  All  right." 

"  Tom's  (ulrift  i)i  hcvl^^ 

'' Whiit!"  shouted  Jlruce. 

"  ToiiiH  atlr'ift  in  her.-' 

At  this  appalling  intelligence  Bruce's  heart 
seemed  to  stop  beating. 

'^  How  long?"  he  cried,  after  a  pause. 

"Half  an  hour/'  cried  Arthur. 

'^  Why  don't  you  go  after  him?"  cried  Bruce 
{iirain. 

"  We're  aground/'  cried  Arthur. 

'i'lie  whole  situation  was  now  explained,  .and 
Bruce  was  lilled  with  his  own  share  of  that  dis- 
may wliich  prevaihid  on  board  of  the  schooner  ;  for 
a  long  time  nothing  more  was  said.  At  length 
Arthur's  voice  sounded  again. 

"  Bruce  ! " 

"Hallo!" 

"  (fct  a  boat,  and  come  aboard  as  soon  as  you 
can  after  the  tide  turns." 

"  All  right,     [low  early  will  the  tide  suit?  " 

"  Eight  o'clock." 

"Not  before?" 

"  No." 

After  this  nothing  more  was  said.  Bruce  could 
see  for  himself  that  the  tide  was  falling,  and  that 
lie  would  have  to  wait  for  the  returninii-  tide  before 


% 

^ 


i% 


LOST   IN   TIIK    F0(;. 


a  boat  could  be  launched,  lie  waited  for  some 
time,  full  of  despair,  and  hesitating  to  return  to 
Bart  with  his  mournful  intelligence.  At  length  he 
turned,  and  walked  slowly  Ijack  to  Iiis  friend. 

"  Well,  Bruce  ?  "  asked  Bart,  who  by  this  time 
was  sure  that  some  accident  had  happened. 

"  Tlie  boat's  adrift." 

"  Tlie  boat !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  what's  worse^  poor  Tom  ! " 

"  Tom  !  "  cried  Bart,  in  a  horror  of  apprehensi-on. 

"  Yes,  Tom's  adrift  in  her." 

At  this  Bart  said  not  a  word,  but  stood  for  some 
time  staring  at  Bruce  in  utter  dismay. 

A  few  wprds  served  to  explain  to  Bart  the  situa- 
tion of  the  schooner,  and  the  need  of  getting  a 
boat. 

"  Well,"  said  Bart,  "  we'd  bettor  see  about  it  at 
once.  It's  eleven  o'clock,  but  we'll  find  some  peo- 
ple up;  if  not,  we'll  knock  them  up." 

And  with  these  words  the  two  lads  walked  up 
from  the  river  bank. 

On  reaching  the  houses  attached  to  the  ship- 
yard, they  found  that  most  of  the  people  were  up. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  singing  and  laughter 
going  on,  which  the  boys  interpreted  to  arise  from 
a  desire  to  celebrate  the  launching  of  the  ship. 
They  went  first  to  Mrs.  Watson's  house,  where 
tliey  found  that  good  lady  up.  She  listened  to 
th<;ir  story  with  undisguised  uneasiness,  and  after- 
wards called  in  a  number  of  men,  to  whom  she 


TOM    ADIITFT. 


70 


told  the  sad  news.     These  men  listened  to  it  with 
very  serious  faees. 

"  It's  no  joke,"  said  one,  shaking  his  head. 

The  others  said  nothing,  but  their  faces  spoke 
volumes. 

"  What  had  we  ])etter  do?"  asked  Bruce. 

"  Of  course  ye'U  be  off  as  soon  as  ye  can  get 
off,"  said  one. 

"  The  lad  might  have  a  chance,"  said  another. 
"  The  return  tide  may  drift  him  back,  but  he  may 
be  carried  too  far  down  for  that." 

"He'll  be  carried  below  Capo  Chignecto  unless 
he  gets  to  the  land,"  said  another. 

"Isn't  there  a  chance  that  he'll  be  picked  up?" 
askccl  Bart. 

Tlio  man  to  whom  he  spoke  shook  his  head. 

"  There's  a  deal  of  fog  in  the  bay  this  night," 
said  ho. 

"Fog?     Why,  it's  clear  encmgli  here." 

"  So  it  is  ;  but  this  i)lace  and  the  J)ay  ol'  Fundy 
are  two  dilferent  things." 

"  A  regular  sou-wester  out  there,"  said  another 
man. 

"  An  a  pooty  heavy  sea  by  this  time,"  said  an- 
other. 

And  in  this  way  they  all  contributed  to  increase 
the  anxiety  of  the  two  boys,  until  at  last  scarce  a 
ray  of  hope  was  left. 

*    "  You'd  better  prepare  yourselves  for  the  worst," 
said  one  of  the  men.     "  If  he  had  an  oar  he  would 


m 


80 


T<OST    IN   THE    FOO. 


bo  iill  right;  but,  as  it  is  —  well,  1  don't  care  about 
sayin  what  I  tliiuk." 

"  0,  you're  all  too  despondont/'  said  Mrs.  Wat- 
son. "  What  is  the  use  of  looking  on  the  dark 
side?  Come,  Bart,  cheer  uj).  I'll  look  on  the 
])right  side.  Hope  for  the  best.  Set  out  on  the 
search  witli  hope,  and  a  good  heart.  I'm  confident 
that  he  will  be  safe.  You  will  pick  him  up  your- 
selves, or  else  you  will  hear  of  his  escape  some- 
where. I  remember  two  men,  a  few  years  ago,  that 
went  adrift  and  were  saved." 

"  Ay,"  said  one  of  the  men,  "  I  mind  that  well. 
They  were  Tom  Furlong  and  Jim  Spencer.  But 
that  there  boat  was  a  good-sized  fishing  boat;  an 
such  a  boat  as  that  might  ride  out  a  gale." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Watson.  "  You're  all  a 
set  of  confirmed  croakers.  AVhy,  Bart,  you've  read 
enough  shipwreck  books  to  know  that  little  boats 
have  floated  in  safety  for  hundreds  of  miles.  So 
hope  for  the  best;  don't  be  down-hearted.  I'll 
send  two  or  three  men  down  now  to  get  the  boat 
ready  for  you.  You  can't  do  anything  till  the 
morning,  you  know.  Won't  you  stay  here  ?  You 
had  better  go  to  bed  at  once." 

But  Bart  and  Bruce  could  not  think  of  bed. 

"  Well,  come  back  any  time,  and  a  bod  will  be 
ready*  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Watson.  '•'  If  you  want 
to  see  about  the  boat  now,  the  men  are  ready  to  go 
with  you." 

With  these  words  she  led  the  way  out  to  the 


1 

-4. 


THE    PETITrODIAC. 


81 


kitchen,  whore  n  couple  of  men  were  waiting. 
Bart  and  Bruce  followed  them  down  to  a  boat- 
liouse  on  the  river  bank,  and  saw  the  boat  there 
which  Mrw.  Watson  luid  offered  them.  This  boat 
coidd  be  launched  at  any  time,  and  as  there  was 
nothing  more  to  be  done,  the  boys  strolled  discon- 
solately about,  and  finally  went  to  the  end  of  the 
promontory,  and  spent  a  long  time  looking  out  over 
the  wjitor,  and  conversing  sadly  about  poor  Tom's 
chances. 

There  they  sat  late  in  the  night,  until  midnight 
came,  and  so  on  into  the  morning.  At  last  the 
scone  before  them  changed  from  a  sheet  of  water 
to  a  broad  expanse  of  mud.  The  water  had  all  re- 
tired, leaving  the  bed  of  the  river  exposed. 

Of  all  the  rivers  that  flow  into  the  Bay  of  Fundy 
none  is  more  remarkable  than  the  Petitcodiac. 
At  high  tide  it  is  full  —  a  mighty  stream  ;  at  low 
tide  it  is  empty — a  channel  of  mud  forty  miles 
long ;  and  the  intorvenmg  periods  are  marked 
by  the  furious  flow  of  ascending  or  descending 
waters. 

And  now,  as  the  boys  sat  there  looking  out  upon 
the  expanse  of  mud  before  them,  they  became 
aware  of  a  dull,  low,  booming  sound,  that  came  up 
from  a  far  distant  point,  and  seemed  like  the  voice 
of  many  waters  sounding  from  the  storm-vexed 
ba}-  outside.  There  was  no  moon,  but  the  light 
was  sulliciont  to  enable  them  to  see  the  exposed 
rivor  l)ed,  far  over  to  the  shadowy  outline  of  the 

G 


82 


LOST   TN   THK    F()(]. 


opposite  shore.  Flore,  wliore  in  the  morning  a 
niiglity  ship  had  floated,  nothing  couhl  now  float ; 
but  the  noise  tliat  broke  upon  their  ears  tohl  tlieni 
of'tlie  return  of  the  waters  that  now  were  about  to 
pour  onward  with  resistless  might  into  the  empty 
channel,  and  send  successive  waves  far  along  into 
the  heart  of  the  land. 

"  What  is  that  noise  ?  "  asked  Bruce.  "  It  grows 
lou  ler  and  louder." 

"  That/'  said  Bart,  "  is  the  Bore  of  the  Petitco- 
diac." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  it  ?  " 

"  Never.  IVe  heard  of  it  often,  but  have  never 
seen  it." 

But  their  words  wen3  interrupted  now  by  the 
deepening  thunder  of  the  approaching  waters. 
Towards  the  quarter  whence  the  sourid  arose  tlu^y 
turned  their  heads  involuntarily.  At  lirst  chey 
could  see  nothing  through  the  gloom  of  night ; 
but  at  length,  as  they  strained  their  (^yes  looking 
down  the  rivei,  they  saw  in  the  distance  a  faint, 
white,  pho^.^>iu)rescent  gleam,  and  as  it  api)eared 
the  roar  grew  louder,  and  rounder,  and  more  all- 
pervading.  Ofi  it  came,  carrying  with  it  the  hoarse 
cadence  of  some  vast  surf  flung  ashore  from  the 
workings  of  a  distant  storm,  or  the  thunder  of 
some  mighty  cataract  tumbling  over  a  rocky  })reci- 
pice. 

And  now,  as  they  looked,  the  white,  phospho- 
rescent glow  grew  briglit(5r,  and  tlieii  whiter,  like 


w 


\ 


M- 


■■^ 


A    mr.UT   OF    MISERY. 


83 


I 


snow;  every  minnto  ii  jipprojicliod  nearer,  until  at 
last,  full  before  them  and  beneath  them,  there 
rolled  a  giant  wave,  extendinii^  aeross  the  bed  of 
the  river,  crescent-shaped,  with  its  convex  side  ad- 
vancint^  forwards,  and  its  ends  following!;  after 
within  short  distance  from  the  shore.  The  i!:reat 
wav(^  rolled  on,  one  mass  of  snow-white  foam,  be- 
hind which  gleamed  a  broad  line  of  phosi)horescent 
Instr(!  (Vom  the  agitated  waters,  which,  in  the 
j,'lo()m  of  niirht,  had  a  certain  baleful  radiance. 
As  it  passed  on  its  path,  the  roar  camc^  up  n)ore 
majesticMlly  from  the  foremost  wave  ;  and  behind 
that  came  the  roar  of  other  billows  that  lollowed 
in  its  wake.  l>y  daylight  tlu^  scene  wo>dd  have 
IxM'ii  grand  and  impressive  ;  but  now,  amid  the 
gloom,  the  grand(Mir  became  indest-ribabh^  The 
force  of  those  iniiihtv  waters  seemed  indeed  resist- 
less,  and  it^i^is  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  the 
boys  reflected  that  the  schooner  was  out  of  the 
reach  of  its  sweep.  Its  i)assag(3  was  swift,  and 
soon  it  had  ])asscd  beyond  them;  and  afar  up  the 
river,  long  aHer  it  had  ])assed  from  night,  they 
licai'd  th(!  distant  thunder  of  its  mi<rhtv  marc;!', 

I*y  llic  time  the  w!ive  had  passtsd,  the  boys  fonnd 
themselvt's  (excessively  W(Mry  with  their  long  wake- 
fulness. 

''  IJart,my  boy,"  said  I>ruce,  "  w(^  must  g(et  some 
rest,  or  \\y\  won't  be  W(»rth  anvlhin-^  to-inorrow. 
What  <lo  you  say  ?  Sha"  u'e  go  back  to  Mrs.  Watr 
son's?" 


84 


LOST   IN   THE    FOG. 


■J 


"It's  toolato  — isn't  it?" 

"  Well,  it's  pretty  late,  no  doubt.  I  dare  say  it's 
lialt*  ])ast  two;  but  that's  all  the  niuro  reason  why 
we  should  go  to  bed." 

"  Well." 

*'  Wliat  do  yon  say  ?  Do  yon  think  we  had  better 
dislnrb  Mrs.  Watson,  or  not?" 

"(),  no;  let's  go  into  the  barn,  and  lie  down  in 
the  hay." 

*'  Very  well.  ITay  makes  a  capital  bed.  For  my 
part,  I  Cf)nld  sleep  on  stones." 

"So  eould  1." 

"  I'm  determined  to  hope  for  the  best  about 
1'nm,"  said  IJrnce,  risiii^:;  and  walking  oil",  followed 
by  Hart.  "  Mrs.  Watson  was  right.  There's  no 
use  letting  ourselves  be  dow^ncast  by  a  lot  of  croak- 
ers —  is  there  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  fJart. 

The  boys  iben  walked  on,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
Reached  the  ship-yard. 

Here  a  man  came  up  "to  them. 

"  We've  been  looking  for  you  everywhere,"  said 
the  man.     "  Mrs.  Watson  is  anxious  about  you." 

''  Mrs.  Watson  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  w^on't  go  to  bed  till  you  get  bsick 
to  the  house.  There's  another  man  out  for  you,  up 
the  river." 

"  0,  I'm  sorry  we  have  given  you  all  so  much 
trouble,"  said  Uart;  "  but  we  didn't  think  that  any- 
body woidd  bother  themselves  about  us." 


I 


:i- 


A    MOURNFUL    WAKING. 


85 


up 


"  Well,  you  don't  know  ivrrs.  Wutson  —  ihaV^  all," 
sjiid  the  nuiii,  wjilkint^  along  with  tlioni.  ''  She's 
hcL'n  .'i  worrytin  licrseli'  to  dealh  al)()ut  yoii ;  and 
the  sooner  she  sees  you,  tlie  better  for  her  and  lor 
you." 

On  rcachiiiijj  the  house  the  boys  were  received 
by  Mrs.  Watson.  One  look  at  iter  was  euoug'h  to 
show  them  that  the  man's  account  of  her  was  tiu(>. 
lid'  lace  was  pale,  her  manner  was  agitated,  and 
her  vi)ice  trembled  as  she  spoke  to  them,  and  asked 
tiiem  where  they  had  been. 

IJart  expressed  sorrow  at  having  been  the  cause 
of  so  much  trouble,  and  assured  her  he  thought 
that  she  had  gtme  to  bed. 

"  No,"  said  she ;  '^  I've  been  too  excited  and  agi- 
tated about  your  friend  and  about  you.  Jiut  I'm 
glad  that  you've  been  found ;  and  as  it's  too  late  to 
talk  now,  you  had  better  go  to  bed,  and  try  to 
slee[)." 

Witli  these  words  she  gently  urged  them  to  their 
bedroom ;  and  the  boys,  utterly  W(jru  out,  did  not 
attempt  to  withstand  her.  Tliey  went  to  bed,  and 
scarcely  had  their  heads  touched  the  pillows  be- 
fore they  were  fast  asleep. 

>b'aiiwhile  the  boys  on  board  the  Antelope  had 
been  no  less  anxious  ;  and,  unable  to  sleep,  they  had 
talketl  soltMunly  with  cacu  other  over  the  possil)lo 
fiite  oi'  ]toor  Tom.  Chafing'"  from  their  forced  inac- 
tion, they  looked  impatiently  upon  the  (d)bing  wa- 
ter, wiiich  was  leaving  them  aground,  wlieu  tliey 


I 


■•3i"' 


86  LOST   TN   THK   FOk^. 

wore  longing  to  bo  (loating  on  its  boson »  af'tor  tbeir 
friend,  and  could  scarcely  endure  the  tliouglil  ol' 
the  suspense  to  which  they  would  be  condenuied 
while  waiting  lor  the  following  morning. 

Captain  Corbet  also  was  no  less  anxious,  though 
inucli  less  agitated.  He  acknowledged,  with  pain, 
j  ,|  that  it  was  all  his   liiult,  but  appealed   to  all   the 

boys,  one  by  one,  asking  them  how  he  should  know 
that  the  i  )pe  was  rotten,  lie  inlbrmed  them  tliat 
the  roj)0  was  an  old  favorite  of  his,  and  that  he 
would  have  willingly  risked  his  life  on  it.  lie 
blamed  himself  chielly,  however,  for  not  staying 
in  the  boat  himself,  instead  of  leaving  Tom  in  it. 
To  all  his  remarks  the  boys  siiid  but  little,  and  con- 
tented themselves  with  putting  ((uestions  to  him 
about  the  coast,  the  tides,  the  wind,  the  currents, 
and  the  fog. 

The  boys  on  board  went  to  sleep  about  one 
o'clock,  and  waked  at  sunrise.  Then  they  wat(;hed 
the  shore  wistfully,  and  wondered  Vv'hy  lUui  and 
Bruce  did  not  make  their  appearance.  J>ut  Hart 
and  Ijruce^  worn  out  by  their  long  watch,  did  not 
wake  till  nearly  eight  o'clock.  Then  they  hastily 
dressed  themselves,  and  after  a  very  hurried  break- 
fast they  bade  good  by  to  good  Mrs.  Watson. 

''  1  shall  be  dreadfully  anxious  about  that  poor 
boy,"  said  she,  sadly.  •'  Promise  me  to  telegraph 
as  soon  as  you  can  about  the  result." 

Hart  promised. 

Then  they  hurried  down  to  the  beach.     The  tide 


% 


TAKING    COUNSEL. 


87 


was  yet  a  oonsiderahlo  distance  out ;  but  a  half  doz- 
en stout  fellows,  whose  syinpatlni'-s  were  liilly  un- 
listed in  tiieir  favor,  shoved  the  b.»a"  down  over  the 
mud,  an<l  launched  hvv. 

Then  IJait  and  l>ruce  took  the  oars,  and  soon 
readied  the  schooner,  wLeic  the  boys  awaited  their 
arrival  in  mournful  sileuco. 


88 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


VT. 


Tom  adrift.  —  TJie  reccduKj  Shores.  —  Tlie  PtuldJe. 
—  The  Hoar  of  Surf  —  The  Fotj  Horn.  —  The 
Thtmler  of  ilie  unseen  Breakers.  —  A  Horror 
of  great  Darkness.  —  Adrift  in  Fog  and  Night. 


fllEN  tlie  bojit  in  wliich  Tom  was  darted 
down  the  stream,  he  at  first  felt  paralyzed 
by  utter  terror ;  but  at  length  rousing  him- 
self, he  looked  around.  As  the  boat  drifted  on,  his 
first  impulse  was  to  stop  it;  and  in  order  to  do 
this  it  was  necessary  to  find  an  oar.  The  oar 
which  Captain  Corbet  had  used  to  scull  the  boat 
to  the  schooner  had  been  thrown  on  board  of  the 
latter,  so  that  the  contents  of  the  boat  might  bo 
passed  up  the  more  conveniently.  Tom  knew  this, 
but  he  thought  that  there  might  be  another  oar  on 
board.  A  brief  examination  sufliced  to  show  him 
that  there  was  nothing  of  the  kind.  A  few  loose 
articles  lay  at  the  bottom ;  over  these  was  the  sail 
Avhich  Captain  Corbet  had  bought  in  the  ship-yard, 
and  on  this  was  the  box  of  pilot-bread.  That  was 
all.  There  was  not  a  sign  of  an  oar,  or  a  board, 
or  anything  of  the  kind. 


TOM    ADRTFT. 


89 


>'j 


I 


No  sooner  had  he  Ibuiid  out  this  thnn  lie  iiiod  tu 
tear  off  one  of  the  seats  of  the  l)oat,  in  the  h(»[)e 
of  using  tliis  as  a  paddle.  I>ut  the  seats  were  too 
tinnly  fixed  to  he  loosene(l  hy  his  liands,  and,  after 
a  few  frai'tic  but  ineffectual  efforts,  he  gave  up  the 
attemi>t. 

I>ut  he  could  not  so  quickly  give  up  his  efforts 
to  save  himself  There  was  the  box  of  biscuit  yet. 
Taking  his  knife  from  his  pocket,  he  succeeded  in 
detaching  the  cover  of  the  box,  and  then,  using 
this  as  a  paddle,  ho  sought  with  frantic  efforts  to 
force  the  boat  nearer  to  the  shore.  l>ut  the  tide 
was  running  very  swiftly,  and  the  cover  was  only 
a  small  bit  of  board,  so  that  his  efforts  seemed  to 
have  but  little  result.  He  did  indeed  succeed  in 
turning  the  boat's  head  around  ;  but  this  act,  which 
was  not  accomplished  without  the  severest  labor, 
did  not  seem  to  bring  her  nearer  to  the  shore  to 
any  perceptible  extent.  What  he  sought  to  do  was 
to  achieve  some  definite  motion  to  the  boat,  which 
might  (h'ag  her  out  of  the  grasp  of  the  swift  cur- 
rent;  but  that  w'as  the  very  thing  which  he  ccndd 
n(»t  do,  for  so  strong  was  that  grasp,  and  so  swift 
was  that  current,  that  even  an  oar  would  have 
scarcely  accomplished  what  he  wished.  The  bit 
of  board,  small,  and  thin,  and  frail,  and  wielded 
with  great  difficulty  and  at  a  fearful  disadvantage, 
was  almost  useless. 

But,  though  he  saw  that  he  was  accomplishing 
little  or  nothing,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  give 


90 


LOST   IN   TFIR   FOG. 


u[)  tlii.s  work.  It  seomcd  his  uiily  hupo  ;  and  so  ho 
Iciboi'od  un,  suiiKjtiiuus  wurking  with  both  luiiids  at 
the  hoard, Hoiiiutiinos  plyiug  his  i'rail  paddle  withoiie 
hand,  and  using  the  other  hand  at  a  vain  endeavor 
to  paddle  in  the  water.  In  liisdes[)eration  lie  kept  on, 
and  thought  that  ii"  he  gained  ever  so  little,  still,  hy 
keeping  hard  at  work,  the  little  that  he  gained  might 
iinally  tell  upon  the  direction  of  the  boat  —  at  any 
rate,  so  long  as  it  might  bo  in  the  river.  lie  knew 
that  the  rivor  ran  for  some  miles  yet,  and  that  some 
time  still  remained  before  he  would  reaeh  the  bay. 

Thus  Tom  toiled  on,  half  despairing,  and  nearly 
fainting  witli  his  frenzied  exei'tion,  yet  still  refus- 
ing to  give  up,  but  plying  his  frail  pad<lle  until  his 
nerveless  arms  seemed  like  weights  of  lead,  and 
could  scarce  carry  the  board  through  the  water. 
But  the  result,  which  at  the  outset,  and  in  the  very 
freshness  of  his  strength,  had  been  but  trifling, 
grew  less  and  less  against  the  advance  of  his  own 
weakness  and  the  force  of  that  tremendous  tide, 
until  at  last  liis  feeble  exertions  ceased  to  have  any 
ap})reciable  effect  whatever. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  it  was  light  enough  for 
him  to  see  the  shores  —  to  sec  that  ho  was  in  the 
very  centre  of  that  rapid  current,  and  to  perceive 
that  he  was  being  borne  past  those  dim  shores  with 
fearful  velocity.  The  sight  iillcd  him  with  despair, 
but  his  arms  gained  a  fn^sh  energy,  from  time  to 
time,  out  of  the  very  desperation  of  his  soul.  H'3 
was  one  of  those  natures  which  aro  too  obstinate 


THK    UECKDINfJ    SHORKS. 


91 


lit 


to  j;'ive  tip  cvlmi  in  the  prescnco  ol"  despair  itsclij 
iui<l  wliicli,  (J von  when  hope  is  dead,  still  ioreen 
hope  to  linger,  and  struj^g'les  on  wliile  a  })article  ot* 
lite  or  of  strength  remains.  So,  as  he  toiled  on,  ami 
Ibugliton,  against  this  late  whieh  had  suddenly  lixed 
itself  ujion  him,  lie  saw  the  shores  on  eithei'  side 
reeede,  and  knew  that  every  passing  moment  was 
hearing  him  on  to  a  wide,  ii  cruel,  and  a  periK)Us 
sea.  He  took  one  hasty  glance  behnid  him,  and 
saw  what  he  knew  to  be  the  mouth  of  the  river 
close  at  hand ;  and  beyond  this  a  waste  of  waters 
was  hidden  in  the  gloom  of  night.  The  sight  lent 
new  energy  to  his  fainting  limbs,  lie  called  aloud 
for  help.  Shriek  after  shriek  burst  from  him,  and 
rang  wildly,  piercingly,  thrillingly  u[)un  the  air  of 
night,  lint  those  despairing  shrieks  came  to  no 
liuman  e;ir,  and  met  with  no  response.  They  died 
away  upon  the  wind  and  the  waters  ;  and  the  licrce 
tide,  with  swifter  How,  bore  him  onward. 

The  last  headland  swept  past  him;  the  river  and 
the  river  bank  were  now  lost  to  him.  Around  him 
the  ex})aiiso  of  water  grew  darker,  and  broader, 
and  more  terribK;.  Above  him  the  stars  glimmered 
more  faintly  from  the  sky.  But  the  very  habit  of 
exertion  still  remained,  and  his  faint  plunges  still 
dipped  the  little  board  into  the  water  ;  and  a  vague 
idea  of  saving  himself  was  still  uj)permost  in  his 
mind.  Deep  down  in  that  stout  heart  of  his  was 
a  (h'sperato  resolution  never  to  give  u\)  while 
strength  lasted;  and  well  he  sustained  that  deter- 


02 


LOST    IN    TIIR    FOO. 


miiiiitioii.  Ovor  liiiii  tlio  mist  cjuik^  llnafiiiL;',  borno 
along  l>y  the  wind  which  sig-licd  Jiround  liini;  and 
tliiit  mist  griidiially  overspread  tin;  seenu  in)()ii 
wliich  liis  straining  eyes  woro  rastcnod.  It  shut 
(,ut  the  ovcrlianging  sky.  It  oxtinguisiicd  the 
ghimnei'ing  stars.  It  tlirew  a  veil  over  the  reced- 
ing shores.  It  drew  its  I'olds  around  liim  closer 
and  closer,  until  at  last  everything  was  hiddc^n  i'rom 
view.  C/loser  and  still  closer  came  the  nn'st,  and 
thicker  and  ever  thicker  grow  its  dense  folds,  until 
at  last  even  the  water,  into  which  he  still  thrust 
his  Irail  paddle,  was  invisible.  At  length  his 
strength  failed  utterly.  His  hands  refused  any 
longer  to  perform  their  duty.  The  strong,  indomi- 
table will  remained,  but  the  power  of  performing 
the  dictates  of  that  will  was  gone.  lie  fell  back 
upon  the  sail  that  lay  in  the  bottom  of  tlie  boat,  and 
the  board  fell  from  his  hands. 

And  now  there  gathered  around  the  prostrate 
figure  of  the  lost  boy  all  the  terrors  of  thickest 
darkness.  The  fog  came,  together  with  the  night, 
shrouding  all  things  from  view,  and  he  was  floating 
over  a  wide  sea,  with  an  impenetrable  wall  of  thick- 
est darkness  closing  him  in  on  all  sides. 

As  he  thus  lay  there  helpless,  he  had  leisure  to 
reflect  for  the  first  time  upon  the  full  bitterness  of 
his  situation.  Adrift  in  the  fog,  and  in  the  night, 
and  borne  onward  swiftly  down  into  the  Bay  of 
Fundy  —  that  was  his  position.  And  what  could 
he  do  ?     That  was  the  one  question  which  he  could 


THE    PADDLE. 


93 


not  aiisw(3r.  Giviiij:^  way  now  to  tlio  rusli  of  de- 
spair, ho  lay  for  womo  tiiiio  motionless,  Iceling  the 
ro(;kiii;j,'  of  the  waves,  and  the  breath  of  the  wind, 
and  tlie  ehill  damp  of  the  I'oj:^,  yet  unal)le  to  do 
anything  against  these  enemies.  B\)r  nearly  an 
honr  ho  lay  thus  inactive,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  his  lost  energies  began  to  return,  lie  rose 
and  l(»ok('(l  around.  The  scene  had  not  changed 
at  all;  in  lact,  there  was  no  scene  to  change.  There 
was  nothing  but  bhick  darkness  all  around.  Sud- 
denly something  knocked  against  the  boat,  lie 
reached  out  his  hand,  and  touched  a  piece  of  wood, 
which  the  next  instant  slipped  I'rom  his  grasp. 
Hut  the  disa})[)ointment  was  not  without  its  alle- 
viation, for  he  thought  that  he  might  come  across 
some  bits  of  drift  wood,  with  which  he  coidd  do 
something,  perliaps,  for  his  escape.  And  so  l)uoy- 
ant  was  his  soul,  and  so  obstinate  his  courage,  that 
this  little  incident  of  itself  served  to  revive  his 
laculties.  He  went  to  the  stern  of  the  boat,  5ind 
sitting  there,  he  tried  to  think  upon  what  might  be 
best  to  bo  done. 

What  could  be  done  in  such  a  situation?  IIo 
could  swim,  but  of  what  avail  was  that?  J  a  wiiat 
direction  could  he  swim,  or  what  progress  could  he 
midc(\  with  such  a  tide  ?  As  to  ])addling,  he  thought 
of  that  no  more  ;  paddling  was  exhausted,  and  his 
board  was  useless.  Nothing  remained,  apparently, 
but  inaction.  Inaction  was  indeed  hard,  and  it 
was   the   woist  condition    in   which    he    could  be 


-,%. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


If  i^  IIIIIM 

2.2 


1^    1^ 


•-  lilllM 


1.8 


1.4    IIIIII.6 


V] 


<^ 


/2 


A 


'<^. 


V 


/A 


A 


\^ 


'^'^ 


\ 


\ 


«^ 


<^  V/'^O^ 


^1>  <^ 


r^^^ 


ffnr: 


04 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


placed,  for  in  such  a  state  the  mind  always  preys 
upon  itself  ;  in  sucli  a  state  trouble  is  always  mag- 
nified, and  tlie  slow  time  passes  more  slowly.  Yet 
to  this  inaction  he  found  liimself  doomed. 

TTe  floated  on  now  for  hours,  motionless  and 
filled  witli  despair,  listening  to  the  dash  of  the 
waves,  which  were  the  only  sounds  that  came  to  his 
cars.  And  so  it  came  to  pass,  in  process  of  time, 
that  by  incessant  attention  to  these  monotonous 
sounds,  they  ceased  to  be  altogether  monotonctus, 
but  seemed  to  assume  various  cadences  and  into- 
nations. ITis  sharpened  ears  learned  at  last  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  dash  of  large  waves  and  tlio 
j)lash  of  small  ones,  the  sighing  of  tlie  wind,  the 
pressure  of  the  w^aters  against  the  boat's  bows,  and 
the  rip})le  of  eddies  under  its  stern.  Worn  out  by 
excitement  and  fitigue,  he  lay  motionless,  listen- 
ing to  sounds  like  these,  and  taking  in  them  a 
mournful  interest,  when  suddenly,  in  the  midst 
of  thciui,  his  cars  cauglit  a  dillerent  cadence.  It 
was  a  long,  measured  sound,  not  an  unfamiliar  one, 
but  one  which  he  had  often  heard  —  the  gathering 
sound  wliich  breaks  out,  rising  and  accumulating 
ni)on  (he  ear,  as  the  lung  line  of  surf  falls  upon 
some  rocky  shore.  lie  know  at  once  what  this 
was,  and  iniderstood  by  it  that  he  was  near  some 
shor(^ ;  but  wliat  shore  it  might  bo  he  could  not 
know.  'I'ho  sound  c;ime  up  from  his  right,  and 
thorefori^  might  be  the  New  Ibunswick  coast,  if 
the  boat  had  preserved  its  proper  position.    But  the 


THE    ROAR    OF   SURF. 


9") 


4 


position  of  the  boat  had  been  constantly  cl)anp,inii; 
as  she  drifted  along,  so  that  it  was  impossible  to 
tell  whether  he  was  drifting  stern  foremost  or  bow 
foremost.  The  water  moved  as  the  boat  moved, 
and  there  was  no  means  by  which  to  jndge.  He 
listened  to  the  surf,  therefore,  but  made  no  attempt 
to  diaw  nearer  to  it.  He  now  knew  perfectly  well 
that  with  his  present  resources  no  efforts  of  his 
could  avail  anything,  and  that  his  only  course  wonld 
1)0  to  wait.  Besides,  this  shore,  wliatever  it  was, 
must  be  very,  different,  be  thoughf,  from  the  banks 
(if  the  Petitcodiac.  It  was,  as  he  thought,  an  iron- 
bound  shore.  And  the  surf  wdiich  he  heard  broke 
in  thunder  a  mile  away,  at  the  foot  of  giant  preci- 
|)ices,  which  could  only  offer  death  to  the  hapless 
wretch  who  mi-^lit  bo  thrown  among  them.  TTt^ 
lay,  therefore,  inactive,  listening  to  this  rolling  surf 
for  hours.  At  fii-st  it  grew  gradually  louder,  as 
though  he  was  ajtproaching  it;  but  iif'terwards  it 
grew  fainter  (piile  as  gradu.'dly,  until  at  length  it 
could  no  longer  l)o  heard. 

Huring  all  these  lonely  liours,  one  thing  afforded 
a  certain  consolation,  jnid  that  was,  the  discovery 
that  the  sea  did  not  grow  rougher.  The  wind  that 
blew  was  th(^  sou-wester,  the  dreaded  wind  of  fog 
and  sloiiu;  but  on  this  occasion  its  strength  was 
not  i)ut  forth  ;  it  blew  but  moderately,  and  the 
water  was  not  very  greatly  disturluMl.  Th»^  sea 
tossed  the  littl(»  boat,  but  was  not  high  enough  to 
dash    o\'er   Ikm*,  or  to  endanger   her  in  any   way. 


9G 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


■JL\& 


■■f 


None  of  its  spray  over  came  upon  the  recumbent 
form  in  the  boat,  nor  did  any  moisture  come  iK^ar 
liim,  save  tliat  which  was  deposited  by  tlie  fog. 
At  first,  in  liis  terror,  lie  liad  counted  upon  meet- 
ing- a  tempestuous  sea ;  but,  as  tlie  liours  passed, 
lie  saw  that  thus  far  there  liad  been  nothing*  of 
tlie  kind,  and,  if  he  were  destined  to  be  exposed 
to  such  a  danger,  it  lay  as  yet  in  the  future.  As 
long  as  the  wind  continued  moderate,  so  long 
would  he  toss  over  the  little  waves  without  being 
endangered  in  any  way.  And  thus,  with  all  these 
thoughts,  sometimes  depressing,  at  other  times 
rather  encouraging,  he   drifted  on. 

ITours   passed  away. 

At  length  his  fatigue  overpowered  him  more 
and  mor(\  and  as  he  sat  there  in  the  stern,  his  eyes 
closed,  and  his^head  fell  heavily  forward.  He  laid 
it  upon  the  sail  which  was  in  front  of  him,  so  as  to 
get  an  easier  position,  and  was  just  closing  his 
eyes  again,  when  a  sound  came  to  his  ears  which 
in  an  instant  drove  every  thought  of  sleep  and  of 
fiitigue  away,  and  made  him  start  w^  and  listen 
with  intense  eagerness. 

It  was  the  sound  of  a  fog  horn,  such  as  is  used 
by  coasting  vessels,  and  blown  during  a  fog,  at  in- 
tervals, to  give  warning  of  their  presence.  The 
sound  was  a  familiar  one  to  a  bov  who  had  been 
brougiit  up  on  the  fog-encircled  and  fish-haunted 
shon^s  of  Newfoundland  ;  and  Tom's  hearing,  which 
had   been  almost  hushed  in  slumber,  caught  it  at 


•»«. 


THE   FOG    HORN. 


97 


bent 

nc^w 
lV)g. 
lueet- 
issed, 
ig  of 
posed 


.     As 

J 

long 

being 

these 

■'1 

times 

1  more 
is  eyes 
To  laid 

0  as  to 

Mig  l^is 
which 

and  of 

1  listen 


IS  use 


d 


g,  at  ni- 
e.  The 
ad  been 
haunted 
vr^  which 
^ht  it  at 


once.  It  was  like  the  voice  of  a  friend  calling  to 
him.  But  for  a  moment  he  thought  it  was  only  a 
fancy,  or  a  dream,  and  he  sat  listening  and  quiver- 
ing with  excitement.  ITe  waited  and  listened  for 
some  time,  and  was  just  about  to  conclude  that  it 
was  a  dream,  when  suddenly  it  came  again.  There 
was  no  mistake  this  time.  It  was  a  fog  horn. 
Some  schooner  was  sailing  these  waters.  0  for 
day-light,  and  0  for  clear  weather,  so  that  ho 
might  see  it,  and  make  himself  seen  !  The  sound, 
though  clear,  was  faint,  and  the  schooner  was 
evidently  at  a  considerable  distance  ;  but  Tom,  in 
his  eagerness,  did  not  think  of  that.  He  shouted 
with  all  his  strength.  lie  waited  for  an  answer, 
and  then  shouted  again.  Once  more  he  w.'iiter', 
and  listened,  and  then  again  and  again  his  screams 
went  forth  over  the  water.  But  still  no  response 
came.  At  last,  after  some  interval,  the  fog  horn 
again  sounded.  Again  Tom  screamed,  and  yelled, 
and  uttered  every  sound  that  could  possibly  con- 
vey to  human  ears  an  idea  of  his  presence,  and  of 
his  distress. 

The  sounds  of  the  fog  horn,  however,  did  not 
correspond  with  his  cries.  It  was  blown  at  regu- 
lar intervals,  whirh  seemed  painfully  long  to  Tom, 
and  did  not  seem  to  sound  as  if  in  answer  to  him. 
At  first  his  hope  was  sustained  by  the  discovery 
that  the  sounds  were  louder,  and  therefore  nearer; 
l)ut  scarcely  had  he  assured  himself  of  this,  when 
he  perceived  that  they  were  growing  fainter  again, 


^, 


r 


98 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


as  though  the  scliooner  luid  aj)proac]ied  liim,  and 
then  sailed  away.  Tliis  discovery  only  stimulated 
him  to  more  frantic  cxcrtiuns.  lie  yelled  more 
and  more  loudly,  and  was  cumpciled,  at  last,  to 
cease  from  pure  exliaustion.  But  even  tlion  lie 
did  not  cease  till  long  after  the  last  notes  of  tho 
departing  fog  liorn  had  faintly  sounded  in  his  ears. 

It  was  a  disappointment  bitter  indeed,  since  it 
came  aftei  a  reviving  hope.  What  made  it  all  the 
worse  was  a  fixed  idea  which  he  had,  that  the 
sciiooncr  was  no  other  than  tlie  Antelope.  He  felt 
confident  that  she  had  come  at  once  after  him,  and 
was  now  traversing  the  waters  in  search  of  him,  and 
sounding  the  norn  so  as  to  send  it  to  his  ears  and  get 
his  response.  And  his  response  had  been  given  witli 
this  result !  This  was  the  end  of  his  hopes.  He 
could  bear  it  no  longer.  The  stout  lieart  and  the 
resolute  obstinacy  which  had  so  long  struggled 
against  fate  now  gave  way  utterly.  lie  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands,  and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

He  wo})t  for  a  long  time,  and  roused  himself,  at 
last,  witli  didlculty,  to  a  dull  despair.  AVliat  was 
tho  use  of  hoping,  or  thinking,  or  listening?  Hope 
was  useless.'  It  was  better  to  let  liiinself  2:0  wher- 
ever  tlio  waters  might  take  him.  He  reached  out 
his  hand  and  drew  the  sail  forward,  and  tlien  set' 
tling  himself  down  in  the  stern  of  tlic  boat,  he 
again  shut  his  eyes  and  tried  to  sleep.  But  sleep, 
which  a  short  time  before  had  been  so  easy,  was 
now  dilHcult.     His  ears  took  in   once  more   the 


THUNDER   OF    THE    CRRAKERS. 


99 


the 


dilTereTit  sounds  of  the  sen,  and  soon  became  aware 
of  a  deeper,  drearer  sound  than  Jiny  wliicli  liad 
hitherto  come  to  him.  It  was  the  hoarse  roar  of 
a  _L;"reat  surf,  far  more  formidalJe  than  the  one 
which  he  had  heard  l)efore.  Th(^  tumult  and  tlie 
(hn  !j,Tew  ra})idly  h)udci',  and  at  len<>'th  became  so 
terrific  that  he  sat  ui)iiglit,  and  strained  liis  eyea 
ill  I  lie  (h'rcction  from  whicli  it  came.  Peerin^i:;"  thus 
tlir()Ui;-li  tiie  darkness,  lie  saw  tlie  glow  of  })hos|)ho- 
resccnt  waves  wrought  out  of  tlie  strife  of  many 
waters  :  and  they  threw  towards  him,  amid  the  dark- 
ness, a  baleful  gleam  which  i'ascinatod  his  eyes. 
A  feeling  came  to  liim  now  that  all  was  over,  lie 
felt  as  tlnuigh  he  were  being  sucked  into  some  vor- 
tex, where  Death  lay  in  wait  f(U'  him.  lie  trem- 
bled. A  prayer  started  to  his  li})s,  and  ])ur^:t  from 
Iiiui.  Suddenly  his  boat  seemed  caught  by  some 
resistless  f(U'ce,  and  jerked  to  one  side  ;  the  next 
instant  it  rose  on  some  swelling  wave,  and  was 
shot  swiftly  forward.  Tom  closed  his  e^^es,  and  a 
thrill  of  horror  passed  through  every  nerve.  All 
at  once  a  rude  shock  was  felt,  and  the  boat  shook, 
and  Tom  thought  he  was  going  down.  It  seemed 
lik<^  the  blow  of  a  rock,  and  hi^  could  think  only  of 
l!ie  ingulfing  waters.  But  the  waters  hesitated 
to  claim  their  prey;  the  rushing  motion  censed; 
and  soon  the  boat  was  tossing  lightly,  as  before, 
over  the  waves,  whihi  the  hoarse  and  thunderous 
roar  of  those  dread  unscM'u  br(sd\ers,  fi'om  which 
he  had  been  so  wondreusly  saved,  arose  wrathfully 


100 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


beliind,  as  tliougli  tlioy  were  Iiowlinp;  after  tlieir 
escaped  victim.  A  cry  of  gratitude  escaped  Tom, 
and  witli  trembling  lips  he  offered  a  lieart-felt  prayer 
to  that  divine  Power  whose  mighty  hand  had  just 
rescued  him  from  a  terrible  doom. 

Tom's  agitation  had  l»eon  so  great  that  it  was 
long  befoi-e  he  could  regain  his  former  calm.  At 
last,  however,  his  trembling  subsided.  iTe  hennl 
no  lonii'cr  the  howlinji;  surf.  All  was  calm  and 
(piiot.  The  wind  ceased,  the  boat's  motion  was 
less  violent,  the  lon<i--rcsisted  slumber  came  once 
more  to  his  eyes.  Still  his  terror  kept  off  sleep, 
and  as  his  eyes  would  close,  they  would  every  mo- 
ment open  again,  and  he  would  start  in  terror  and 
look  around. 

At  length  he  saw  that  the  darkness  was  less  pro- 
foun<l.  Light  was  coming,  and  that  light  was  in- 
creasing. He  could  see  the  dark  waters,  and  the 
gloomy  folds  of  the  enclosing  mist  l)ecame  appar- 
ent. '  e  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  partly  of  terror  at  the 
thought  of  all  that  he  had  gone  througli,  and  partly 
of  relief  at  the  approach  of  light. 

Well  might  he  sigh,  for  this  light  was  the  dawn 
of  a  new  day,  and  showed  him  that  he  had  been  a 
whole  night  upon  the  waters. 

And  now  he  could  no  longer  struggle  against 
sleep.  ITis  eyes  closed  for  the  last  time.  His  head 
fell  forward  on  the  wet  sail. 

He  was  sound  asleep. 


TOM   AWAKES. 


101 


VII. 

Lost  ill  the  Fog.  —  The  Shoal  and  its  Bodes.  —  Is  it 
a  Uiii'f?  —  The  Truth.  —  lloistiiuj  Sail.  —  A  for- 
lorn Hope. —  Wild  Steciiuj. —  Where  ant  I?  — 
Land,  ho ! 


awn 
on  ii 


linst 
ead 


1 


f 
ft 


H)^[  sle[)t  for  many  hours  ;  and  wlion  lie  at 
longlli  awoko,  ho  was  stillcnod  in  ovcry  Hinl), 
and  wot  to  tlio  skin.  It  was  liis  consti'ainod 
|)ositioii  and  tho  lioavy  fog  which  liad  done  tliis. 
IIo  sat  up  and  lookod  around  with  a  bowildered 
air  ;  but  it  did  ncjt  tako  a  long  time  for  liim  to  col- 
lect his  wandering  faculties,  and  arrive  at  tho 
full  recollection  of  his  situation.  Gradually  it  all 
caine  before  In'm  —  the  niglit  of  horror,  the  long 
(hi ft,  the  frantic  struggles,  the  boom  of  the  surf, 
tlie  shrill,  penetrating  tone  of  the  fog  horn,  his  own 
wild  screams  for  lielj),  the  thunder  of  the  breakers, 
and  the  grasp  of  the  giant  wave  ;  all  these,  and 
many  more,  came  back  to  his  mind ;  and  he  was  all 
too  soon  enabled  to  coiniect  his  present  situation 
with  the  desperate  position  of  the  preceding  night. 
In  spite  of  all  these  gloomy  thoughts,  which  thus 
rushed  in  one  accumulated  mass  over  his  soul,  his 


'r- 


102 


LOST    IN    TIIK    FOG. 


first  iiiipulso  had  nothing  to  do  witli  tlicsc  tilings, 
but  was  concerned  witli  soinetliing  very  dillereiit 
from  useless  retrospect,  and  sonietliing  I'ar  nioie 
essential.  He  found  himself  ravenously  liuugi}-; 
and  his  one  idea  was  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  jiis 
appetite. 

lie  thought  at  once  of  the  box  of  biscuit. 

The  sail  which  he  had  pulled  forward  had  very 
fortunately  covered  it  \\\),  else  the  contents  might 
have  been  somewhat  damaged.  As  it  was,  tlie 
upper  edges  of  the  biscuits,  which  had  been  ex- 
posed before  being  covered  by  the  sail,  were  some- 
what damp  and  soft,  but  otherwise  they  were  not 
harmed  ;  and  Tom  ate  his  frugal  repast  with  ex- 
treme relish.  [Satisfying  his  appetite  had  the 
natural  eflect  of  cheering  his  spirits,  and  led  him 
to  reflect  with  thankfulness  on  the  very  fortunate 
presence  of  that  box  of  biscuit  in  the  boat.  Had 
it  not  been  for  that,  how  terrible  wouki  his  sit- 
uation be  !  But  with  that  he  could  afford  to  en- 
tertain hope,  and  might  reasonably  expect  to  endure 
tiie  hardsiiips  of  his  situation.  Strange  to  say,  he 
was  not  at  all  thii'sty  ;  which  probably  arose  from 
the  fact  that  he  was  wet  to  the  skin. 

Immersing  one's  self  in  water  is  often  resorted 
to  by  shipwrecked  mariners,  when  they  cannot  get 
a  drink,  and  with  successful  results.  As  for  Tom, 
his  whole  night  had  been  one  long  bath,  in  which 
he  had  been  exposed  to  the  penetrating  effects  of 
the  sea  air  and  the  fog. 


THE  SHOAL  AND  ITS  ROCKS. 


103 


He  luid  no  idea  wluitover  of  the  time.  TIio  siiii 
L'oiild  not  be  seen,  Jiiid  so  thick  was  the  fog  that  ho 
could  not  even  make  out  in  what  part  of  the  sky 
it  might  be.  He  had  a  general  impression,  how- 
ever, that  it  was  midday;  and  this  impression  was 
not  very  much  out  of  the  way.  His'  breakfast 
rei'reshed  him,  and  he  learned  now  to  attach  so 
much  value  to  his  box  of  biscuit,  that  his  chief 
desire  was  to  save  it  from  further  injury.  So  he 
hunted  about  for  the  cover,  and  finding  it  under- 
neath the  other  end  of  the  sail,  he  put  it  on  the 
l)ox,  and  then  covered  it  all  up.  In  this  position 
the  precious  contents  of  the  box  were  safe. 

The  hour  of  the  day  was  a  subject  of  uncertainty, 
and  so  was  the  state  of  the  tide.  Whether  he  was 
drilling  up  or  down  the  bay  he  could  not  tell  for 
certain.  His  recollection  of  the  state  of  the  tide 
at  Petitcodiac,  was  but  vague.  He  Reckoned,  how- 
ever, from  the  ship  launch  of  the  preceding  day, 
and  then,  allowing  sufficient  time  for  the  difierence 
in  the  tide,  he  approximated  to  a  correct  conclu- 
sion. If  it  were  midday,  he  thought  that  the  tide 
would  be  about  half  way  down  on  the  ebb. 

Tlieso  thoughts,  and  acts,  and  calculations  took 
up  some  time,  and  he  now  began  to  look  around 
him.  Suddenly  his  eye  caught  sight  of  something 
not  far  away,  dimly  visible  through  the  mist.  It 
looked  like  a  rock.  A  further  examination  showed 
liim  that  such  was  the  case.  It  was  a  rock,  and 
he  was  drifting  towards  it.     No  sooner  had  ho  us- 


•Sci 


f 


!L. 


104 


LOST    IN    THE    FOG. 


certaincd  this,  than  all  liis  cxcitomeiit  onco  more 
awakened.  Trembling  from  hoad  to  foot  at  this 
sudden  prospect  of  escape,  he  started  to  his  feet, 
and  watched  most  eagerly  the  progress  of  the  boat. 
Jt  was  drifting  nearer  to  the  rock.  Soon  another 
appeared,  and  then  another.  The  rocks  were  black, 
and  covered  with  masses  of  sea-weed,  as  though 
they  were  submerged  at  high  tide.  A  little  nearer, 
and  ho  saw  a  gravelly  strand  lying  just  beyond  the 
'  rocks.  His  excitement  grew  stronger  and  strong- 
er, until  at  last  it  was  quite  uncontrollable.  ITo 
began  to  fear  tliat  he  would  drift  past  this  place, 
into  tb'^  deep  water  again.  He  sprang  into  the 
bows,  and  grasping  the  rope  iji  his  hand,  stood  ready 
to  leap  ashore.  lie  saw  that  he  was  drawing  nearer, 
and  so  delayed  for  a  while.  Nearer  he  came  and 
nearer.  At  length  the  boat  seemed  to  pass  along 
by  the  gravelly  beach,  and  move  by  it  as  though 
it  would  go  no  nearer.  This  Tom  could  not 
endure.  He  determined  to  wait  n  ^  longer.  He 
sprang. 

He  sank  into  the  water  up  to  his  armpits,  but  ho 
did  not  lose  his  hold  of  the  rope.  Clutching  this 
in  a  convulsive  grasp,  he  regained  his  footliold, 
which  he  had  almost  lost,  and  struggled  forward. 
For  a  few  moments  ho  made  no  headway,  for  the 
boat,  at  the  pressure  of  the  current,  pulled  so  hard 
that  he  could  not  drag  it  nearer.  A  terrible  fear 
came  to  him  that  the  rope  might  break.  Fortu- 
nately it  did  not,  and,  after  a  short  but  violeui 


:% 


TPSt 

i 


} 


IS   IT   A    REEF?  105 


struggle,  Tom  conquered  the  resistance  of  tlie  tide, 
hirI  i)ulled  the  boat  slowly  towards  the  shore,     lie 
then  towed  it  near  to  the  rocks,  dragged  its  bows 
np  as  far  as  he  could,  and  fastened  it  securely. 
Then  he  looked  around. 

A  lew  rocks  were  near  him,  about  six  feet  high, 
jutting  out  of  the  gravel;  and  beyond  these  were 
t)thers,  which  rose  out  of  the  water.  Most  of  them 
were  covered  Avith  sea-weed.  A  few  sticks  of  tim- 
ber were  wedged  in  the  interstices  of  the  nearest 
rocks.  As  to  the  rest,  he  saw  only  a  rocky  ledge 
of  small  extent,  which  was  surrounded  by  water. 
Beyond  this  nothing  was  visible  but  fog. 

At  first  he  had  thought  that  this  was  a  beach, 
but  now  he  began  to  doubt  this.     lie  walked  all 
le  and  around,  and  went  into  the  water  on  every  side,  but 

along  I'ound   no   signs  of  any  neighboring  shore.     The 

})lace  seemed  rather  like  some  isolated  ledge.     But 

not  where  was  it,  and  how  far  away  was  the  shore? 

lie  If  he  could  only  tell  that !    He  stopped,  and  listened 

intently ;  he  walked  all  around,  and  listened  more 
intently  still,  in  hopes  of  hearing  the  sound  of  some 
neigliboring  surf.  In  vain.  Nothing  of  the  kind 
came  to  his  ears.  All  was  still.  The. water  was 
not  rough,  nor  was  there  very  much  wind.  There 
was  only  a  brisk  breeze,  which  throw  up  light 
waves  on  the  surface. 

After  a  time  he  noticed  that  the  tide  was  going 
down,  and  the  area  of  the  ledge  was  evidently  en- 
larging.    This  inspired  hope,  for  he  thought  that 


•  ji-'.'"  -^ 


,_%; 


^emmt 


106 


LOST   IN   THE   FOO. 


perhaps  some  long  sliua!  miglit  be  diwclosed  by  the 
retreating  tide,  whicli  might  conniiimicate  vvitli  the 
main  land.  For  tliis  lie  now  watched  intently,  and 
occupied  himself  with  measuring  the  distance  I'rom 
the  rock  where  .his  boat  was  tied.  Doing  this  from 
time  to  time,  he  found  that  every  little  while  the 
number  of  paces  between  the  rock  and  the  water's 
edge  increased.  This  occupation  made  the  time 
pass  rapidly ;  and  at  last  Tom  found  his  stopping- 
place  extending  over  an  area  of  about  a  hundred 
yards  in  length,  and  half  as  many  in  breadth.  The 
rocks  at  one  end  had  increased  in  apparent  size, 
and  in  number  ;  but  tlic  ledge  itself  remained  un- 
changed in  its  general  character. 

This,  he  saw,  was  its  extreme  limit,  beyond  which 
it  did  not  extend.  There  was  no  communication 
with  any  .shore.  There  was  no  more  indication 
now  of  land  than  when  he  had  first  arrived.  This 
discovery  was  a  gradual  one.  It  had  been  heralded 
by  many  fears  and  suspicions,  so  that  at  last,  when 
it  forced  itself  on  his  convictions,  he  was  not  alto- 
gether unprepared.  Still,  the  shock  was  terrible, 
and  once  more  poor  Tom  had  to  struggle  with  his 
despair  —  a  despair,  too,  that  was  all  the  more 
profound  from  the  hopes  that  he  had  been  enter- 
taining. Jle  found,  at  length,  in  addition  to  this, 
that  the  tide  was  rising,  that  it  was  advancing  to- 
wn i-ds  his  resting-place,  and  that  it  would,  no  doubt, 
overllow  it  all  before  lv)ng.  It  had  been  half  tide 
when  he  landed,  and  but  a  little  wad  uncovered; 


THE   TRUTH. 


107 


1  by  the 
^itli  the 
tly,  and 
ICO  from 
I  lis  from 
liilo  the 
water's 
lie  time 
toppiiig- 
lundrcd 
h.  The 
silt  size, 
nod  un- 

d  which 
nication 
dication 
1.  This 
icralded 
^t,  when 
lot  alto- 
tcrriblo, 
with  his 
10  more 
n  enter- 
to  this, 
[icing  to- 
10  doubt, 
lialf  tide 
covered  J 


!h 


at  full  tide  he  saw  that  .t  would  all  be  covered  up 
by  the  water, —  sea  v  eed,  rocks,  and  all,  —  and 
concealed  from  human  eye. 

In  the  midst  of  these  painful  discoveries  there 
suddenly  occurred  to  him  the  true  name  and  nature 
of  this  place. 

(^uaco  Ledge  ! 

'J'liut  was  the  place  which  Captain  Corbet  had 
described.  lie  recalled  now  the  full  description. 
Here  it  lay  before  him  ;  upon  it  he  stood  ;  and  he 
found  that  it  corresponded  in  every  respect  with 
llie  description  tluit  tlie  captain  had  given.  If  this 
were  indeed  so, and  tlie  description  were  true,  —  and 
ho  could  not  doubt  this,  —  how  desperate  his  situa- 
tion was,  and  how  he  hud  boon  deceived  in  his 
liilso  Iiopos  !  Far,  fur  away  w^as  he  from  any  shore  ! 
■ —  in  the  middle  of  the  bay ;  on  a  place  avoided  by 
all  —  a  place  wliich  he  should  shun  above  all  other 
places  if  lie  hoped  ibr  final  escape  I 

And  now  jio  was  as  eager  to  quit  this  ill-omened 
place  as  ho  had  once  been  to  roach  it.  Tho  tide 
was  yot  low.  IIo  tried  to  push  the  boat  down,  but 
could  not.  lie  saw  that  ho  would  have  to  wait. 
So  ho  got  inside  tho  i)oat,  and,  sitting  down,  ho 
Will  tod  patiently.  Tho  time  passed  slowly,  and 
'i'oin  looked  despairingly  out  over  the  water. 
Something  attracted  his  attention.  It  was  a  long 
j)olc,  wliich  had  struck  against  the  edge  of  tho  shoal. 
II  '  got  out  of  the  boat,  and,  securing  it,  he  walked 
buck  again.     It  was  some  waif  that  had  been  drift- 


rrr 


I 


108 


LOSl    IN   THE   FOG. 


iiig  tibout  till  it  was  tliiis  cast  at  his  feet.  TTe 
tlionglit  of  taking  it  for  a  mast,  and  making  use  of 
the  sail.  The  idea  was  an  attractive  one.  Jle 
pulled  tlie  sail  out,  unfolded  it,  and  ibund  it  to  he 
the  jib  of  some  schooner.  He  cut  oif  one  end  of 
tiiis,  and  tlien  with  his  knife  began  to  make  a  liole 
in  tlie  seat  for  his  mast.  It  was  xcry  slow  work, 
but  he  succeeded  at  last  in  doing  it,  and  inserted 
the  pole.  Then  he  fastefied  the  sail  to  it.  lie  was 
rather  ignorant  of  navigation,  but  lie  had  a  general 
idea  of  the  science,  and  thought  he  would  learn  ])y 
experience.  By  cutting  off  the  roi)e  from  the  edge 
of  the  sail  he  obtained  a  sheet,  and  taking  olf  the 
cover  of  the  biscuit  box  a  second  time,  he  put 
this  aside  to  use  as  a  ruddei'. 

But  now,  in  what  direction  ought  he  to  steer? 

This  was  an  insoluble  pi'oblem.  ITc  could  tell 
now  by  the  flow  of  the  current  the  points  of  the 
compass,  but  could  not  tell  in  which  direction 
he  ouglit  to  go.  The  New  Brunswick  coast  he 
thought  was  nearest,  but  he  dreaded  it.  It  seemed 
l>erilous  and  unapproachable.  He  did  not  think 
nuu'h  better  of  the  Nova  Scotia  coast.  He  thought 
rather  of  O.ipe  d'Or,  as  a  promising  place  of  refuge, 
or  the  Petitcodiac.  So,  after  long  deliberation,  ho 
decided  on  steering  back  again,  especially  as  the 
wind  was  blowing  directly  up  the  bay. 

By  the  time  that  he  had  linished  these  prepara- 
tions and  deliberations  the  boat  was  afloat.  Eagerly 
Tom  pushed  it  away  from  the  shoal;  eagerly,  and 


'# 


HOISTINCx   SAIL. 


!09 


3Ct.  ITo 
<^-  use  of 
)11C.      IIo 

it  to  1)0 
3  eiul  of* 
(i  a  liolo 
iw  woi'k, 

iiiseitcd 

ITo  was 

I  go n oral 

loam  ])y 
tlio  edge 
r  oir  the 
,  lio   put 

stoor? 
ouM  toll 
:s  of  tlio 
Uroction 
roast  ho 

sooniod 
ot   til  ink 

thought 
f  roiug'o, 
ation,  ho 
y  as  the 

propara- 
Kagorly 
3rly,  uud 


with  tromhliiig  hands,  ho  lot  the  sail  unfold,  and 
thrust  the  board  into  the  water  astern.  The  boat 
lollowed  the  impulse  of  the  wind,  and  the  young 

■  sailor  saw  with  delight  that  his  experiiuent  was 
sucocssful,  and  before  long  the  dark  rooks  of  Quaco 
Lodge  were  lost  to  view. 

Now,  where  there  is  a  definite  object  to  steer  by, 
or  a  compass  to  guide  one,  and  a  decent  rudder, 
oven  an  inoxperionc^od  hand  can  manage  to  come 
somewhere  near  the  point  that  ho  aims  i  ^  But 
lake  a  boat  like  Tom's,  and  a  rude  and  suddenly 
oxtemporizod  sail,  with  no  other  rudder  than  a  bit 

■^  of  board,  with  no  compass,  and  a  surrounding  of 
tliiok  fog,  and  it  would  puzzle  oven  an  experienced 
sailor  to  guide  himself  aright.    Tom  soon  suspected 

'  that  his  course  was  rather  a  wild  one  ;  his  board  in 
])articidar  became  quite  mimanagoable,  and  he  was 
iiitignod  with  trying  to  hold  it  in  the  water.  So 
ho  threw  it  aside,  and  boldly  trusted  to  his  sail 
alone. 

The  boat  seemed  to  him  to  bo  making  very  re- 

:s{)octablo  [)rogress.  The  wind  was  fresh,  and  the 
sea  only  moderate.  The  little  waves  boat  over  the 
bows,  and  there  was  quite  a  commotion  astern. 
'^Pom  thouglit  he  was  doing  very  well,  and  heading 

hii^  near  as  possible  towards  the  Petitcodiac.  Be- 
sides, in  his  excitement  at  being  thus  saved  from 

-mere  blind  drifting,  ho  did  not  much  care  where  ho 

T^wont,  lor  he  iolt  assured  that  he  was  now  on  the 

"way  out  of  his  diilicultios. 


no 


LOST   IN   THE    FOPr. 


In  an  hour  or  two  after  leaving  tlie  ledge  it  grew 
quite  dark,  and  Tom  saw  that  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  prepare  for  the  night.  His  preparations 
were  simple,  consisting  in  eating  a  half  dozen  bis- 
cuit. Ue  now  began  to  feel  a  little  thirsty,  but 
manfully  struggled  against  this  feeling.  Gradually 
the  darkness  grew  deeper,  until  at  last  it  assumed 
the  intense  character  of  the  preceding  night.  But 
still  Tom  sat  up,  and  the  boat  went  on.  The  wind 
did  not  slacken,  nor  did  the  boat's  progress  cejise. 
Hours  passed  by  in  this  way.  As  to  the  tides, 
Tom  could  not  tell  now  very  well  whether  they 
were  rising  or  falling,  and,  in  fact,  he  was  quite 
indifterent,  being  satisfied  fully  witli  his  progress. 
As  long  as  ^he  wind  distended  his  sail,  and  bore 
the  boat  onward,  he  cared  not  whether  the  tide 
favored  or  opposed. 

Hours  passed,  but  such  was  Tom's  excitement 
that  he  still  bore  up,  and  thought  nothing  of  rest 
or  of  sleep.  His  attention  was  needed,  too,  and  so 
he  kept  wide  awake,  and  his  ears  were  ever  on  the 
stretch  to  hear  the  slightest  sound.  But  at  last 
the  intense  excitement  and  the  long  fatigue  began 
to  overpower  him.  Still  he  struggled  against  his 
weakness,  and  still  he  watched  and  listened. 

Hours  passed  on,  and  the  wind  never  ceased  to 
fill  the  sail,  and  the  boat  never  ceased  to  go  onsviird 
in  a  course  of  which  Tom  could  have  no  idea,  it 
was  a  course  totally  dillerent  from  the  one  which 
he   intended  —  a  course   which   depended  on  the 


% 


A    FORT/JRN    TIOPR. 


in 


^e  it  grew 
be  iiecetj- 
3paratiuns 
dozen  bis- 
lirsty,  but 
Gradually 
t  assumed 
ght.  lUit 
The  wind 
'ess  cease, 
the  tides, 
ther  they 
was  quite 

progress. 

and  bore 
r  tlie  tide 

xcitement 
iig  of  rest 
;oo,  and  so 

cr  on  the 
ut  at  last 
;ue  began 

ainst  his 
ed. 

ceased  to 
2:0  oil  ward 
)  idea.  It 
i>U(^  whicli 
d   on  tlio 


§ 


chance  of  the  wind,  and  one,  too,  whicli  was  varied 
by  tlie  sweep  of  the  tide  as  it  rose  or  fell ;   but  tiio 
course,  such   as  it  was,   continued   on,    and    Tom 
watched  and  waited  until,  at  last,  from   sheer  ex- 
haustion, he  fell  sound  asleep. 

His  dreams  were  much  disturbed,  but  he  slept 
on  soundly,  and  when  he  awaked  it  was  broad  day. 
lie  looked  around  in  deep  disnppointmcnt.  Fog 
was  everywhere,  as  before,  and  nothing  could  be 
seen.  Whether  he  was  near  any  shore  or  not  ho 
could  not  tell.  Suddenly  he  noticed  that  the  wind 
was  blowing  from  an  opposite  direction.  How  to 
account  for  this  was  at  first  a  mystery,  for  the  fog 
still  prevailed,  and  the  opposite  wind  could  not 
bring  fog.  Was  it  possible  that  the  boat  had 
turned  during  his  sleep?  He  knew  that  it  was 
quite  possible.  Indeed,  he  believed  that  this  was 
the  case.  With  this  impression  he  determined  to 
act  on  tlie  theory  that  the  boat  had  turned,  and 
not  that  the  wind  had  cliangod.  The  latter  idea 
seemed  impossible.  The  wind  was  the  chill,  damp 
fog  wind  —  the  sou-wester.  Convinced  of  this, 
Ttju  turned  the  boat,  and  felt  satisfied  thfft  ho  had 
resuuKMl  his  true  course. 

After  a  time  the  wind  went  down,  and  the  bmII 
llappoil  idly  against  the  mast.  Tom  was  in  a  fever 
of  im])atience,  but  ciMild  do  nothing.  He  felt  him- 
self to  be  once  more  at  the  mercy  of  the  tides. 
The  wind  liad  failcMl  him,  and  nothing  was  left  but 
to  drill.     All  that  dsiy  he  drifted,  and  night  came 


V 


h 


112 


LOST   IN   THE   FO(i 


on.  Still  it  continued  calm.*  Tom  was  weary  and 
worn  out,  but  so  intense  was  his  excitement  that 
he  could  not  think  of  sleep.  At  midinght  the 
wind  sprung  up  a  little ;  and  now  Tom  determined 
to  keep  awake,  so  that  the  boat  might  not  again 
double  on  her  track,  lie  blamed  himself  for  sleep- 
ing on  the  previous  night,  and  losing  so  much 
progress.     Now  he  was  determined  to  keep  awake. 

His  resolution  was  carried  out.  His  intense 
eagerness  to  reach  some  shore,  no  matter  where, 
and  his  fear  of  again  losing  what  he  had  gained, 
kept  sleep  from  his  eyes.  All  that  niglit  he 
watched  his  boat.  The  wind  blew  fitfully,  some- 
times carrying  the  boat  on  rapidly,  again  dying 
down. 

So  the  next  morning  came. 

It  was  Thursday. 

It  was  Monday  fxight  when  ho  had  drifted  out, 
and  all  that  time  he  had  been  on  the  deep,  lost  in 
the  fog. 

And  now,  wearied,  dejected,  and  utterly  worn 
out,  he  looked  around  in  despair,  and  wondered 
where  this  would  end.  Fog  was  everywhere,  as 
before,  and,  as  before,  not  a  thing  could  be  seen. 

Hours  passed  on  ;  the  wind  had  sprung  up  fresh, 
and  the  boat  went  on  rapidly. 

Suddenly  Tom  sprang  upright,  and  uttered  a 
loud  cry. 

There  full  before  him  he  saw  a  giant  cliff,  tower- 
ing  lar   overhead,    towards    which  the    boat  was 


WILD   STEERING. 


113 


iry  and 
nt  that 
jilt  tlie 
irmiiied 
►t  again 
r  sleep- 
)  much 
awake, 
intense 
where, 
gained, 
g-lit  he 
r,  Ronie- 
1  dying 


ed  ont, 

■W:'y 

lost  in 

% 

y  worn 

^i^^^l 

)ndered 

lere.  as 

'^1 

seen. 

p  fresh, 

ered   a 

tower- 
at  was 


saiUng.  At  its  base  the  waves  were  dasliing. 
Over  its  brow  trees  were  bonding.  In  tlio  air  far 
above  he  lieard  the  hoarse  cries  of  sea-gulls. 

In  his  madness  he  lot  the  boat  drive  straight  on, 
and  was  close  to  it  before  lie  tliouglit  of  his  danger. 
He  could  not  avoid  it  now,  however,  for  he  did  not 
know  liow  to  turn  the  boat.  On  it  went,  and  in  a 
lew  moments  struck  the  beach  at  the  base  of  the 
cliir. 

The  tide  was  higli;  tlic  breeze  was  moderate, 
and  there  was  but  little  surf.  The  boat  was  not 
injured  liy  running  ashore  there.  Tom  jumped  out, 
and,  taking  the  rope  in  his  hands,  walked  along 
tlic  roULih  and  stonv  beacli  for  about  a  hundred 
yards,  pulling  the  boat  after  him.  There  the  cliff 
was  succeeded  by  a  steep  slope,  beyond  which 
was  a  gentle,  grass-grown  declivity.  Towards  this 
h(5  bent  his  now  feeble  steps,  still  tugging  at  the 
boat,  Jind  drawing  it  after  him. 

At  length  he  reached  the  grassy  slope,  and 
found  here  a  rough  beach.  lie  fastened  the  boat 
securely  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree  that  grew  near. 

Then  he  lilted  out  the  box  of  biscui',  and  over 
this  he  threw  the  sail. 

lie  stood  for  a  few  moments  on  the  bank,  and 
looked  all  around  for  signs  of  some  human  habita- 
tion ;  but  no  signs  appeared.  Tom  was  too  ex- 
liausted  to  go  in  search  of  one.  He  had  not  slept 
Ibr  more  than  thirty  hours.  The  country  that  he 
saw  w  as  cleared.   Hills  were  at  a  little  distance,  but 

8 


114 


LOST   IN   TTTE   FOG. 


II 


the  fog  which  hung  m11  around  concealer!  every- 
thing from  view.     One  look  was  enough. 

Overwhelmed  with  gratitude,  he  fell  upon  his 
knees,  and  offered  up  a  fervent  prayer  of  thankful- 
ness for  his  astonishing  escape. 

Tlicn  fatigue  overpowered  him,  and,  rolling  Jiim- 
self  up  in  the  sail,  he  went  to  sleep. 


V* 


i.'M 


'% 


ANXIOUS   LOOKOUT. 


115 


every- 

)on    his 
lankful- 

ng  Iiim- 


VIIT. 

Off  in  Search.  —  Eager  OtUlook.  —  Notliimj  hut  Fog. 
—  SjX'aking  a  Schooner. — Pleasant  Anecdotes. — 
Clieer  up.  —  The  Heart  of  Corbet. 

'FTKU,  the  arrival  of  Bruce  and  T>art,  Captain 
Corbet  (lid  not  delay  liis  de})arture  nmoli  loiii;- 
(>r.  The  vessel  was  already  all()at,and  tlioiig'h 
the  tide  was  still  rising,  yet  the  wind  was  suf- 
(ici(Mitlv  lavoraljh^  to  enable  her  to  do  on  her  wav\ 
The  sails  weri;  soon  set,  and,  with  the  new  boat  in 
tow,  the  Anteh)pe  weighed  anchor,  and  took  hor 
departure.  For  about  two  houra  but  little  prog- 
ress was  made  against  the  strong  opposing  cur- 
rent :  yet  they  had  the  satisfaction  oi' reaching  the 
mouth  of  the  river,  and  by  ten  o'clock,  when  the 
tide  turned  and  began  to  fall,  they  were  fairly  in 
the  bay.  The  wind  here  was  ahead,  but  the  strong 
tide  was  now  in  their  favor,  and  they  hoped  for 
some  hours  to  make  respectal)le  progress. 

During  this  time  they  had  all  kept  an  anxious 
lookout,  but  without  any  result.  No  Heating  craft 
of  any  kind  aj)])eared  ujhju  the  surface  of  the  wa- 
ter.    Coming  down  the  river,  the  sky  was  uncloud- 


m 


rrr' 


tlG 


LOST   IN   TTIE   POO. 


ed,  and  all  the  snrronndinf^  scene  was  fully  visible  ; 
but  on  reaching  the  bay,  they  saw  before  them,  a 
few  miles  down,  a  lofty  wall  of  light-gray  cloud. 
Captain  Corbet  waved  his  hand  towards  this. 

"  We're  in  for  it,"  said  he,  "  or  we  precious  soon 
will  be." 

"  Wliat's  that  ?  "  asked  Phil. 

"  Our  old  friend  —  a  fog  bank.  You'd  ought  to 
know  it  by  this  time,  sure." 

There  it  lay,  a  few  miles  off,  and  every  minute 
brought  them  nearer.  The  appearance  of  the  fog 
threw  an  additional  ^loom  over  the  minds  of  all, 
for  tliey  saw  the  hopeless  character  of  their  search. 
Of  what  avail  would  it  be  to  traverse  the  seas  if 
they  were  all  covered  by  such  thick  mists?  Still 
notliing  else  was  to  be  done,  and  they  tried  to  hope 
for  tlie  best. 

*'  Any  how,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  thar's  one 
comfort.  That  thar  fog  may  go  as  quick  as  it 
come.  It  ony  needs  a  change  of  wind.  Why, 
I've  knowcid  it  all  vanish  in  half  an  hour,  an  the 
fog  as  thick  as  it  is  now." 

"  But  sometimes  it  lasts  long  —  don't  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  did.  I've  knowed  it  hang  on 
for  weeks." 

At  this  gloomy  statement  the  boys  said  not  a 
word. 

Soon  after  the  schooner  approached  the  fog  bank, 
and  in  a  little  while  it  had  plunged  into  the  midst 
of  its  misty  folds.     The  chill  of  the  damp  clouds, 


SrEKCH    OF   CAPTAIN   CORBET. 


117 


sible ; 
lem,  a 
cloud. 

s  soon 


iglit  to 


inimite 
tlie  fog 
of  all, 
search, 
seas  if 
?  Still 
to  hope 

tr's  one 

k  as  it 

Why, 

,  an  the 


lang  on 


d  not  a 


) 


g  bank, 

e  midst 

D  clouds, 


as  thoy  enveloped  them,  struck  additional  chill  to 
their  hearts.  It  was  into  the  midst  of  this  tliat  pour 
Tom  hnd  drifted,  they  thought,  and  over  these  seiis, 
amidst  this  impenetrable  atmosphere, he  might  even 
now  be  diifting.  In  the  midst  of  the  deep  deject iun 
conse(pient  upon  such  thoughts,  it  was  dilficult  fur 
them  to  find  any  sulid  ground  for  hope. 
\  The  wind  was  moderate,  yet  adverse,  and  the 
schooner  had  to  beat  against  it.  As  she  went  on 
each  tack,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  shores ; 
but  as  time  passed,  the  bay  widened,  and  Captain 
Corbet  kei)t  away  from  the  land  as  much  as  possi- 
ble. All  the  time  the  boys  never  ceased  to  main- 
tain their  forlorn  lookout,  and  watched  over  the 
sides,  and  peered  anxiously  through  the  mist,  in 
the  hope  that  the  gloomy  waters  might  suddenly 
disclose  to  their  longing  eyes  the  form  of  the  drill- 
ing boat  and  their  lost  companion. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  boys,"  said  Captain  Corbet, 
after  a  long  and  thoughtful  silence  ;  "  the  best  plan 
of  acting  in  a  biz  of  this  kind  is  to  pluck  up  sperrit 
an  gu  on.  Why,  look  at  me.  You  mind  the  time 
when  that  boat,  that  thar  i-dentical,  indiv,iddle 
boat,  drifted  away  onst  afore,  with  youns  in  it. 
You  remember  all  about  that,  —  course.  Well, 
look  iit  me.  Did  I  mourn?  Did  I  fret?  Was  1 
cast  down  ?  Nary  down  ;  not  me.  1  cheered  up. 
1  cheered  up  Mr,  Long.  I  kep  everybody  in  good 
sperrits.  An  what  was  the  result?  Result  was, 
you  all  turned  up  in  prime  order  and  condition,  a 


U8 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


cnjyin  of  your.sclvus  like  all  possessed,  aluiig  with 
old  O'Rafrerty. 

"  Again,  my  friends,"  ho  continued,  as  the  boys 
made  no  remark,  "  consider  this  life  air  short 
an  full  of  vycissitoods.  Ups  an  downs  air  tiie 
lot  of  pore  fallen  hooinanity.  But  if  at  the  fust 
blast  of  misf(|i'ten  we  give  up  an  throw  up  the 
game,  what's  the  good  of  us?  The  question  now, 
an  the  chief  pint,  is  this  —  Who  air  we,  an  wluir 
air  we  goin,  an  what  air  we  purposin  to  do? 
Fust,  we  air  hooman  beins ;  secondly,  we  air  a 
traversin  the  vast  an  briny  main  ;  and  thirdly,  we 
hope  to  find  a  certain  friend  of  ourn,  who  was  borno 
away  from  us  by  the  swellin  tide.  Thar's  a  aim  for 
us — a  high  an  holy  aim;  an  now  I  ask  you,  as 
feller-critters,  how  had  we  ought  to  go  about  it? 
Had  we  ought  to  peek,  an  pine,  an  fret,  an  whine? 
Had  we  ought  to  snivel,  and  give  it  up  at  the  fust? 
Or  had  we  ought,  rayther,  to  be  up  an  doin,  — 
pluck  up  our  spcrrits  like  men,  and  go  about  our 
important  work  with  energy  ?  Which  of  these 
two,  my  friends  ?     I  pause  for  a  reply." 

This  was  quite  a  speech  for  Captain  Corl^et,  and 
the  effort  seemed  quite  an  exhaustive  one.  He 
paused  some  time  for  a  reply  ;  but  as  no  reply  was 
forthcoming,  he  coijtinued  his  remarks. 

"  Now,  see  here,"  said  he  ;  "  this  here  whole  bu- 
siness reminds  me  of  a  story  I  once  read  in  a  noos- 
pa})er,  about  a  man  up  in  this  here  identical  river, 
the  Petticoat  Jack,  who,  like  a  fool,  pulled  up  his 


■n*'»  '/fi  •"• 


THE   captain's   SPEECH    ENDED. 


110 


llg  W 


ith 


ho  l)(.)ys 

ir  short 

air    tliu 

the   fust 

up  the 
ion  now, 
an  whiir 

to  do'.' 
ro  air  a 
irdly,  we 
as  borne 
a  aim  for 

you,  as 
bout  it? 
[1  whine? 
the  fust? 

doin,  — 
bout  our 
of  these 

rl)et,  and 
jne.  He 
•eply  was 

vhole  bu- 
n  a  noos- 
cal  river, 
ed  up  his 


boat  on  the  bank,  and  went  off  to  sleep  in  her. 
Will,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he  floated  off, —  for  the 
ti(h3  liappened  to  be  risin,  —  an  when  he  woke  up 
out  of  liis  cool  an  refreshin  slumbers,  he  found 
liimself  afar  on  the  briny  deep,  a  boundin  like  'a 
tiling  of  life,'  o'er  the  deep  heavin  sea.  IJosides, 
it  was  pre(;ious  foggy,  — jest  as  it  is  now, —  an  the 
man  couldn't  see  any  more'n  we  can.  Wal,  the 
story  went  on  to  say,  how  that  thar  man,  in  that 
thar  boat,  went  a  «iriftin  in  that  thar  fashion,  in 
that  thar  fog;  an  he  drifted,  an  drifted,  an  derift- 
ed,  for  days  an  days,  up  an  down,  on  one  side 
an  t'other  side,  an  round  every  way, —  an,  mind 
you,  he  hadn't  a  bit  to  eat,  or  to  drink  either,  for 
that  matter, —  't  any  rate,  the  paper  didn't  mention 
no  such  thing;  an  so,  you  know,  h<^.  drifted,  an 
d-e-e-o-rifted,  —  until  at  last  he  druv  athore.  An 
now,  whar  d'ye  think  he  druv  ?  " 

The  boys  couldn't  think. 

"  Guess,  now." 

The  boys  couldn't  guess. 

"D'ye  guv  it  up?'! 

They  did.  '     , 

"  Wal,  the  paper  said,  he  druv  ashore  at  Grand 
Manaii;  but  I've  my  doubts  about  it." 

The  captain  paused,  looked  all  around  through 
the  fog,  and  stood  for  a  morrient  as  though  listen- 
ing to  some  sound. 

"  I  kine  o'  thought,"  said  he,  "  that  I  detected  the 
dasli  of  water  on  the  shore.  I  rayther  think  it's 
time  to  bring  her  round." 


_^R 


immw 


.>5t 


120 


LOST  IN  THE   FOG. 


Tlie  vessel  was  brouglit  round  on  anotlicr  tack, 
and  tlio  captain  resumed  liis  cunversatiun. 

"  What    I    was  jest    sayin,"   he  continued,  "  re 
minds  me  of  a  story  I  oust  lieard,  or  read,  1  forget 
which  (all  the  same,  though),  al)out  two  boys  wliich 
went  adrift  ou  a  raft.      It  took  place  up  in  Scott's 
Bay,  I  tliink,  at  a  ship-yard  in  that  thar  locality. 

"  These  two  unfortunate  children,  it  seems,  had 
made  a  raft  in  a  playful  mude,  an  embark  in  on  it 
they  had  been  amoosin  theirselves  with  j)addliii 
about  by  pushin  it  with  poles.  At  lengtli  th(^y 
came  to  a  pint  where  poles  were  useless ;  the  tide 
got  holt  of  the  raft,  an  the  ferraii  structoor  was 
speedily  swept  onward  by  the  foorus  current. 
Very  well.  Time  rolled  on,  an  that  thar  raft  rolled 
on  too,  —  far  over  the  deep  belle  w  sea,  —  beaten  by 
the  liowlin  storm,  an  acted  ujhju  by  tbe  remorseless 
tides.  I  leave  you  to  pictoor  to  yourselves  the 
sorrow  of  tliem  thar  two  infant  unfortunits,  thus 
severed  from  their  hum  au  parients,  an  borne  afar, 
an  scarce  enough  close  on  to  keep  'em  from  tlie  in- 
clemency of  the  weather.  So  they  drifted,  an 
drifted,  an  de-e-rifted,  until  at  last  they  druv 
ashore  ;  an  now,  whar  do  you  think  it  was  that 
they  druv  ?  " 

'J'he  boys  couldn't  say. 

*'  Guess  now." 

The  boys  declined. 

They  couldn't. 


SPEAKING    A   SCHOONER.  121 

lor  tack,  "  Nunie  some  place." 

They  couldn't  tliink  of  any. 
(3(1    "  re  "D'ye  guv  it  up?"  asked  the  captain,  excitedly. 

1  forget  They  did. 

'S  which  "  Well,  then,"   said    he,   in  a    triumphant    tone, 

1  Scott's         '  ''  tliey  druv  ashore  on  Brier  Island;  an  ef  that  thar 

fility.  ain't  pooty  tall  driftin,  then  I'm  a  Injino." 

3ms  had  'I'o  1^'i^  1^'itJ  boys  had  no  reply  to  make, 

ill  oil  it  "  From  all    this,"  continued   the   captain,   "  you 

paddliii  .  must  perceive  that  this  here  driftin  is  very  much 

^th  th(}y  more  commoner  than  you  hev  ben  incline<i  to  bleeve 

the  tide  il  to  be.     You  also  must  see  that  thar's  every  reason 

oor  was  ^"i'  hope.     So  up  with  your  gizzards !     Pluck  up 

current.  your  sperrits  !     Rise  and  look  i      in  an  tlic  footoor 

ift  rolled  stpuir  in  the  face.     Squar  oft'  at  fortin,  an  hav  it  out 

oaten  bv  >  ^^'\th  her  on  the  spot.     1  don't  want  to  hev  you  go 

jorsehiss  f  niopin  an  whinin  about  this  way.     Hello  !  " 

y^y   j^lnj  .,  Captain  Corbet  suddenly  interrupted  his  remarks 

its    thus  ''  ''.^'  '^'^  exclamation.     The  exclamation  was  caused 

ne  afar  ^*y  ^''^'  sudden  appearance  of  a  sail  immediately  to 

jj  ^]^^,  i,j.  f  windward.     She  was  coming  up  the  bay  before  the 

fted     an  ^'  wind,  and  came  swiftly  through  the  fog  towards 

^y   druv  at  them.     In  passing  on  her  way,  she  came  irstern  of 

vas  that  I  ^''^  Antelope. 

"Schooner,  ahoy!"  cried  Captain  Corbet;  and 
some  conversation  took  place,  in  which  they  learned 
that  the  stranger  was  the   schooner   Wave,  from 
;i  St.  John,  and  that  she  had  not  seen  any  signs  what- 

ever of  any  drifting  boat. 
This  news  was  received  sadly  by  the  boys,  and 


Ift. 


J 


r 


109 

I  jj^ 


t.OST   IN   THE    FOG. 


Captiiiii  Corbet  had  to  exert  his  utmost  to  rouse 
them  from  their  depression,  but  without  much 
efl'ect. 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  is,"  said  ho,  plaintively, 
"  but  somehow  your  blues  air  contiguous,  an  1  feel 
as  ef  I  was  descondin  intu  a  depression  as  deep  as 
yourn.  I  don't  remember  when  I  felt  so  depressed, 
cept  last  May  —  time  I  had  to  go  oil  in  the  Ante- 
lope with  taters,  arter  I  thought  I'd  done  with  sea- 
farin  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  But  that  thar  vessel 
war  wonderously  resussutated,  an  the  speouse  of 
my  buzzum  druv  me  away  to  traverse  the  sea.  An 
I  had  to  tar  myself  away  from  the  clingin  gerasp  of 
my  weepiu  infant,  —  the  tender  bud  an  bulossum 
of  an  old  man's  life  —  tar  myself  away,  an  feel  my- 
self a  outcast.  Over  me  hovered  contennooly  the 
image  of  the  pinin  infant,  an  my  heart  quivered 
witli  responsive  sympathy.  An  I  yearned  —  an  I 
pined  —  an  I  groaned  —  an  I  felt  that  life  would 
be  intoU'ble  till  I  got  back  to  the  babby.  An  so  it 
was  that  I  passed  away,  an  had  scace  the  heart 
to  acknowledge  your  youthful  cheers.  Wal,  time 
rolled  on,  an  what's  the  result?  Here  I  air.  Do 
I  pine  now  ?  Do  I  peek  ?  Not  a  pine  !  Not  a 
peek  !  As  tender  a  heart  as  ever -bet  still  beats  in 
this  aged  frame ;  but  I  am  no  longer  a  purray  to 
sicli  tender  reminiscinsuz  of  the  babby  as  oust  used 
to  consume  my  vitals." 

Thus  it  was  that  tlic  venerable  captain  talked 
with  the  boys,  and  it  was  thus  that  he  sought,  by 


PLKASANT    ANECDOTES. 


123 


ovoiy  possible  moans,  tu  clieor  tliem  up.  In  this 
way  the  day  passed  on,  and  after  live  or  six  hours 
they  began  to  look  lor  a  turn  of  tide.  During  this 
time  the  schooner  had  been  beating;  and  as  the  fog 
was  as  thick  as  ever,  it  was  impossible  for  the  boys 
to  tell  where  tliey  were.  Indeed,  it  did  not  seem 
as  though  they  had  been  making  any  progress. 

"  We'll  have  to  anchor  soon"  said  the  captain, 
closing  his  eyes  and  turning  his  face  meditatively 
to  the  quarter  whence  the  wind  came. 

''  Anchor  ?  " 


es. 


V 


^' What  for?" 

^'  Wal,  you  see  it'll  soon  be  dead  low  tide,  an  we 
can't  go  on  any  further  when  it  turns.  We'll  have 
wind  an  tide  both  agin  us." 

"  How  far  have  we  come  now  ?  " 

"  Wal,  we've  come  a  pooty  considerable  of  a  lick 
now  —  mind  I  tell  you.  'Tain't,  of  course,  as  good 
as  of  the  wind  had  ben  favorable,  but  arter  all,  tliat 
thar  tide  was  a  pooty  considerable  of  a  tide,  now." 

'^  flow  long  will  you  anchor?  " 

''  Why,  till  the  next  turn  of  tide,  —  course." 

'' Wh(>n  will  that  1)0?" 

"  Wal,  somewhar  about  eleven  o'clock." 

''Eleven  o'clock?" 

"  Yes." 

'^  Why,  that's  almost  midnight." 

"  Course  it  is." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  cruise  off  in  the  bay? 


il 


I  i\ 


124 


LOST   IN   THE   FOO. 


It  seems  to  me  anything  is  better  tluin  koo[»iiig 
still." 

"  No,  young  sir;  it  seems  to  me  that  jest  now 
iinytliin  is  better  tliaii  tryin  to  cruise  in  tlie  l);iy, 
with  a  liocul  tide  a  comiu  u}*.  Why,  whar  d'ye  think 
we'd  be  ?  It  woidd  ony  take  an  liour  or  two  to  [)ut 
us  on  Cape  Chignecto,  or  Cape  d'Or,  onto  a  place 
that  we  wouldn't  git  away  from  in  a  hurry, — -niind 
I  tell  you." 

To  this,  of  course,  tlie  boys  had  nothing  to  say. 
So,  after  a  half  hour's  further  sail,  the  anchor  was 
dropped,  and  the  Antelope  stopped  her  wanderings 
for  a  time. 

Tedious  as  the  day  had  been,  it  was  now  worse. 
The  fog  was  as  thick  as  ever,  the  scene  was  mo- 
notonous, and  there  was  nothing  to  do.  Even  Sob 
onion's  repasts  had,  in  a  great  measure,  lost  their 
attractions,  lie  had  spread  a  dinner  for  tliem, 
which  at  other  times,  and  under  happier  circum- 
stances, would  have  been  greeted  with  uproarious 
enthusiasm ;  but  at  the  present  time  it  was  viewed 
with  comparative  indifference.  It  was  the  fog  that 
threw  this  gloom  over  them.  Had  the  sky  been 
clear,  and  the  sun  shining,  they  would  have  viewed 
the  situation  with  (comparative  e(i[uaninnty  ;  but  the 
.fog  threw  terror  all  its  own  around  Tom's  position; 
and  by  shutting  them  in  on  every  side,  it  forced 
tliem  to  think  of  him  who  was  impi'isoned  in  the 
same  way  —  their  lost  companit)n,  who  now  was 
drifting  in  the  dark.     Besides,  as  long  as  they  were 


CHEER    UP. 


125 


3i.mg 


now 
tlilnk 

to  [)Ut 

placo 

-mind 

o  say. 
_)Y  was 
crings 

worse, 
as  nio- 

t  tlioir 
them, 
ircum- 
arious 
icwcd 
og  tliiit 
i  boon 
v^iowcd 
ut  the 
)sition ; 
{breed 
in  the 
)W  was 
y  were 


in  motion,  they  had  the  consciousness  that  tliey  wore 
doing'  something,  and  that  of  itself  was  a  comfort; 
l»ut  now,  e^on  that  consohition  was  taken  away 
from  them,  and  in  tlieir  forced  inaction  they  fell 
l»aek  again  into  the  same  despondency  which  they 
liad  felt  at  Potitcodiac. 

"  It's  all  this  fog,  I  do  believe,"  said  Captain 
Corbet.  ^'  If  it  want  for  this  you'd  all  cheer  up,  an 
bo  as  merry  as  crickets." 

"  Is  there  any  prospect  of  its  going  away  ?  " 

"  Wal,  not  jest  yet.  You  can't  reckon  on  it. 
When  it  chooses  to  go  away,  it  does  so.  It  may 
hani.'  on  for  weeks,  an  p'aps  months.  Thar's  no 
tcllin.  1  don't  mind  it,  bein  as  I've  })assed  my 
hnll  life  in  the  middle  of  fog  banks ;  but  I  dare  say 
it's  a  lectio  tryin  to  youns." 

Tlio  re|)ast  that  Solomon  spread  for  them  on 
tliat  evening  was  scarce  tasted,  and  to  all  his  coax- 
ings and  i-emonstrances  the  boys  made  no  reply. 
After  the  tea  was  over,  they  went  on  deck,  and 
starcil  sihmtly  into  the  surrounding  gloom.  The 
sight  gave  them  no  relief,  and  gave  no  hope.  In 
that  dense  fog  twilight  came  on  soon,  and  with 
the  twilight  came  the  shadows  of  the  night  more 
rapidly.  At  last  it  grew  quite  dark,  and  finally 
there  arose  all  around  them  the  very  blackness  of 
<laikness. 

"  Tlie  best  thing  to  do,"  said  Captain  Corbet, 
*'  is  t<»  go  to  sleep.  In  all  kinds  of  darkness, 
whether  intunnel  or  extunnel,  I've  alius  Ibund  th'" 


126 


LOST   IN  THE   FOO. 


.<f<, 


best  plan  to  be  to  sleep  it  oil'.  An  I've  knowed 
great  men  who  war  of  my  opinion.  Sleep,  then, 
young  sirs,  while  yet  you  may,  wliile  yer  young 
blood  is  warm,  an  life  is  fresh  an  fair,  an  don't  ])ut 
it  off  to  old  age,  like  me,  ibr  you  mayn't  be  able  to 
do  it.  Look  at  me  !  How  much  d'ye  think  I've 
sh'p  sence  1  left  Mud  Creek?  Precious  little.  I 
don't  know  how  it  is,  but  bein  alone  with  you,  an 
havin  the  respons'bility  of  you  all,  I  kino  o'  don't 
feel  altogether  able  to  sleep  as  1  used  to  do;  an 
sence  our  late  loss  —  I  —  wal,  I  feel  as  though  I'd 
never  sleep  agin.  I'm  talkin  an  talkin,  boys,  but 
it's  a  solemn  time  with  me.  On  me,  boys,  rests  the 
fate  of  that  lad,  an  I'll  scour  these  here  seas  till 
he  turns  up,  ef  I  hev  to  do  it  till  I  die.  Anxious? 
Yes,  I  am.  I'm  that  anxious  that  the  diskivery  of 
the  l(^st  boy  is  now  the  one  idee  of  my  life,  for 
which  I  ibrget  all  else  ;  but  allow  me  to  say,  at  the 
same  time,  tliat  I  fully,  furmly,  an  conshuentiously 
bleve  an  allum,  that  my  conviction  is,  that  that 
thar  lad  is  bound  to  turn  up  all  right  in  the  end  — 
riglit  side  up — with  care  —  sound  in  every  respect, 
in  good  order  an  condition,  jest  as  when  fust 
shipped  on  'board  the  good  schooner  Antelope, 
Corbet  master,  for  Petticoat  Jack,  as  per  bill 
ladin." 

The  captain's  tones  were  mournful.  He  heaved 
.1  deep  sigh  as  ho  concluded,  and  relapsed  into  a 
profound  and  melancholy  silence. 

The  boys  waited  on  deck  for  some  time  longer, 


THE   HEART   OF   CORBET. 


127 


of 
for 
tlie 
lously 
tluit 
ml  — 
poet, 
fust 
■lupc, 

•  bill 


UJ 


and  finally  followed  his  cidvicc,  and  sought  refuge 
below.  They  were  young  and  strong,  and  the  fa- 
tigue which  they  felt  bruuglit  on  drowsiness,  which, 
in  spite  of  their  anxiety,  soon  deepened  into  sleep. 
All  slo})t,  and  at  length  Captain  Corbet  only 
was  awake.  It  was  true  enough,  as  he  had  said, 
tlio  fate  of  the  lost  boy  rested  upon  him,  and  he 
felt  it.  Ilis  exhortations  to  the  boys  about  keei)ing 
up  their  courage,  and  his  stories  about  lost  men 
who  had  drifted  to  a  final  rescue,  were  nil  s})oken 
more  with  reference  to  himself  than  to  them.  lie 
sought  to  keep  up  his  own  courage  by  these  words. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  Ids  efforts,  a  profound  depression 
came  over  him,  and  well  nigh  subdued  him.  No 
one  knew  better  than  he  tlie  many  perils  wliich 
beset  the  driftino;  boat  in  these  dnncrerous  waters 
—  the  perils  of  storm,  the  perils  of  fog,  the  perils 
of  thick  darkness,  the  perils  of  furious  tides,  tlie 
perils  of  sunken  rocks,  of  shoals,  and  of  iron- 
bound  coasts.  The  boys  had  gone  to  sleep,  but 
there  was  no  sleep  for  him.  He  wandered  restless- 
ly al)out,  and  heavy  sighs  escaped  him.  Thus  the 
time  passed  with  him  until  near  midnight.  Then 
h(!  roused  the  mate,  and  they  raised  the  anchor  and 
hoisted  the  sails.  It  was  now  the  turn  of  tide,  and 
the  waters  were  falling  again,  and  the  current  once 
mon)  ran  down  the  bay.  To  this  current  lie  trust- 
ed the  vessel  again,  beating,  as  before,  against  the 
head  wind,  which  was  slill  blowing;  and  thus  the 
Antelope  worked  her  way  onward  through  all  that 


V. 


128  '         LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

dark  and  dismal  night,  until  at  last  the  faint  streaks 
of  light  in  the  east  proclaimed  the  dawn  of  anoth- 
er day. 

Through  all  that  night  the  boys  slept  soundly. 
The  wind  blew,  the  waves  dashed,  but  they  did  not 
awake.  The  anchor  was  hoisted,  and  the  sails  were 
set,  but  the  noise  failed  to  rouse  them.  Weariness 
of  body  and  anxiety  of  mind  both  conspired  to 
make  their  sleep  profound.  Yet  in  that  profound 
sleep  the  anxiety  of  their  minds  made  itself  mani- 
fest ;  and  in  their  dreams  their  thoughts  turned  to 
their  lost  companion.  They  saw  him  drifting  over 
the  stormy  waters,  enveloped  in  midnight  darkness, 
chilled  tlirough  with  the  damp  night  air,  pierced 
to  the  bone  by  the  cold  night  wind ;  drifting  on 
amid  a  thousand  dangers,  now  swept  on  by  furious 
tides  towards  rocky  shores,  and  again  drawn  back 
by  refluent  currents  over  vast  sunken  sea-ledges, 
white  with  foam.  Thus  through  all  the  night  they 
slept,  and  as  they  slept  tlio  Antelope  dashed  on 
through  the  waters,  whose  foaming  waves,  as  they 
tumbled  against  her  sides  and  over  her  bows,  sent 
forth  sounds  that  mingled  with  their  dreams,  and 
became  intermingled  with  poor  Tom's  mournful 
cries. 


THE   SITUATION. 


129 


IX. 

JioaJceonce  more.-  Where  are  xce?-~.Tlie  giant 
Cliff.  ~  Out  to  Sea.  —  Anchorinq  and  Driftinq 
-The  Harbor.  _  The  Search.  -  No  Answer.  - 
Where's  Solomon  ? 


CARCE  had  the  streaks  of  hght  greeted  Cap- 
tain  Corbet's  eyes,  and  given  him  tlie  grateful 
prospect  of  anotlier  day,  when  the  boys  awaked 
and  hurried  up  on  deck.     Tlioir  first  act  was  to 
take  a  hurried  look  all  around.     Tlie  same  gloomy 
and  dismal  prospect  appeared  -  black  water  and 
thick,  impenetrable  fog. 
"  Where  are  we  now,  Captain  ?  "  asked  Bruce. 
"  Wal,  a  con-siderable  distance  down  the  bay." 
''  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 
"Wal  ~  I've  about  made  up  my  mind  whar  to 


go 


"  Where  ?  " 

''  I'm  thinkin  of  puttin  into  Quaco." 
"  Quaco  ?  " 
''Yes." 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here  ?  " 
"  Not  very  fur,  'cordin  to  my  calc'lations.     My 

9  ^ 


130 


LOST    ]N   Till-:    FOfi. 


idoo  i?,  tliat  tlio  boat  may  have  drifted  down  along 
here  and  got  ashore.  Ef  so,  he  may  have  made  for 
Quaco,  an  its  jest  possible  that  wo  may  hear 
about  him." 

"  Is  this  the  most  likely  place  for  a  boat  to  go 
ashore  ?  " 

"  Wal,  Jill  things  considered,  a  boat  is  more 
likely  to  go  ashore  on  the  New  l]runswick  side, 
drifiiii  fi-om  Petticoat  Jack;  but  at  the  same  time 
'tain't  at  all  certain.  Thar's  ony  a  ghost  of  a  chance, 
nn'nd.     I  don't  feel  over  certain  about  it." 

"  Will  we  get  to  Quaco  this  tide  ?  " 

"  Scacely." 

"  "^o  you  intend  to  anchor  again?" 

"Tal,  T  raytlier  think  I'll  hev  to  do  it.  But 
we'd  ought  to  got  to  Quaco  by  noon,  I  calc'late. 
I'm  a  tiiinkin  —      ITello  !     Good  gracious  !  " 

The  captain's  sudden  exclamation  interrupted 
his  words,  and  made  all  turn  to  look  at  the  object 
that  had  called  it  forth.  One  glance  showed  an  ob- 
ject which  might  well  have  elicited  even  a  stronger 
exj)ression  of  amazement  and  alarm. 

Immediately  in  front  of  them  arose  a  vast  cliff, 
—  blacdc,  rocky,  frowning,  —  that  ascended  straight 
up  from  tlie  deep  w  iter,  its  summit  lost  in  the  thick 
fog,  its  base  white  with  the  foaming  waves  that 
thundered  tliere.  A  hoarse  roar  came  up  from 
those  breaking  waves,  which  blended  fearfully  with 
the  whistle  of  the  wind  through  the  rigging,  and 
seemed  like  the  warning  sound  of  some  dark,  drear 


THE   GIANT   CLIFF. 


131 


for 


ate. 

itecl 
)ject 
ob- 


cliff, 
•aigbt 

thick 
that 
from 
with 

J,  and 

drear 


fate.  The  diff  was  close  by,  and  tlic  schooner  had 
been  steering  straiglit  towards  it.  So  near  was  it 
that  it  seemed  as  though  one  could  have  easily 
tossed  a  biscuit  ashore. 

But  though  surprised,  Captain  Corbet  was  not  in 
.the  least  confused,  and  did  not  lose  liis  presence 
of  mind  for  a  moment.  Putting  tlic  lidm  Iiard  up, 
he  issued  the  necessary  commands  in  a  cool,  <juiet 
manner;  the  vessel  went  round,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  danger  was  passed.  Yet  so  close  were 
they,  that  in  wearing  round  it  seemed  as  tliougli  one 
could  almost  have  junijxxl  from  tlie  stern  upon  tlie 
rocky  shelves  which  ap])eared  in  tlic  face  of  the 
lofty  cliff. 

Cai)tain  Corbet  drciw  a  long  breath. 

"  That's  about  the  niii'hest  scratch  I  remember 
ever  havin  had,"  w.is  his  remark,  as  the  Ant(dope 
went  away  iroin  the  land.  "  Cur'ous,  too;  I  don't 
see  how  it  happened.  I  lost  my  reckonin  it  litll(\ 
I'm  a  mile  further  down  than  I  calc'lated  on  bein." 

''Do  you  know  that  place?"  asked  J>art. 

"  Course  I  know  it." 

"  It's  lucky  for  us  we  didn't  go  there  at  night." 

"  Yes,  it  is  rayther  lucky ;  but  then  there  wan't 
any  danger  o'  that,  cos,  you  see,  I  kep  the  vessel 
off  by  night,  an  tho  danger  couldn't  hev  riz.  I 
thought  we  were  a  mih;  further  up  the  bay;  we've 
been  a  doin  better  than  I  thought  for." 

"  Shall  we  be  able  to  get  into  Quaco  any 
sooner  ?  " 


132  LOST   m   THE   FOG. 

"  Wal,  not  miicli." 

"  I  tliouglit  frvjiri  wliat  you  siiid  that  we  were  a 
mile  nearer." 

"  Ho  v/e  air,  but  tliat  don't  make  any  very  great 
dillerenee." 

"  Wliy,  we  ought  to  get  in  all  tlie  sooner,  1  nliould 
tliink." 

"  No  ;  not  much." 

"  Why  not?     I  don't  understand  that." 

"  Wal,  you  see  it's  low  tide  now." 

''  The  tides  again  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  it's  alius  the  tides  that  you  must  consider 
here.  Wal,  it's  low  tide  now,  an  the  tide's  already 
on  the  turn,  an  risin.     We've  got  to  anchor." 

"  Anchor ! " 

''  Yes." 

"  What,  again  ?  " 

"Yes,  agin.  Even  so.  Ef  we  didn't  anchor 
we'd  only  oe  drifted  up  again,  ever  so  far,  an  lose 
all  that  we've  ben  a  gainin.  We're  not  more'n  a 
mile  above  (^uaco  Harbor,  but  we  can't  fetch  it 
with  wind  an  tide  agin  us ;  so  we've  got  to  put  out 
some  distance  an  anchor.  It's  my  firm  belief  that 
we'll  be  in  Quaco  by  noon.  The  next  fallin  tide 
will  carry  us  thar  as  slick  as  a  whistle,  an  then 
we  can  pursue  our  investigations." 

The  scliooner  now  held  on  her  course  for  about 
a  mile  away  from  the  shore,  and  then  came  to  an- 
chor. The  boys  had  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of 
this  unpleasant  necessity,  and  had  forgotten  that 


UNDER    WAY. 


1  oo 
LOO 


tlioy  \\iu\  bcGii  iiriing  u[)  the  liours  uf  tlic  ohl)  tide 
wliilo  tiriloop.  TIkm'o  was  no  help  fur  it,  huwevor, 
and  tliuy  fuinid,  to  tliuir  di.sgust,  another  day  ol"  log, 
and  of  inaction. 

Time  paased,  and  breakfast  came.  Solomon  now 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  thein  eat  more,  and 
ga\"e  manifest  signs  of  tliat  satisfaction  by  tlie 
twiuki"'.  of  his  e}'e  and  the  lustre  of  his  ebony 
brow.  After  this  the  time  passed  on  slowly  and 
heavily;  but  at  length  eleven  o'clock  came,  and 
passed,  and  in  a  short  time  they  were  once  more 
under  wav. 

''  We're  going  to  Qmico  now  —  arn't  we  ?  "  asked 
i'hil. 

"Yes;  riglit  straight  on  into  Quaco  Harbor,  fair 
an  scjuar." 

"  1  don't  see  how  it's  possible  for  you  to  know 
so  pei'fectly  where  you  are." 

"  Young  sir,  there  ain't  a  nook,  nor  a  corner, 
nor  a  hole,  nor  a  stun,  in  all  the  outlinin  an  con- 
ligt)ordtion  of  this  here  bay  but  what's  mapped 
cut  an  laid  down  all  c'rect  in  this  here  brain.  I'd 
undertake  to  navigate  these  waters  from  year's  end 
to  year's  end,  ef  I  was  never  to  see  the  sun  at  all, 
an  even  ef  I  was  to  be  perpetooly  surrounded  by 
all  the  fogs  that  ever  riz.  Yea,  verily,  and  more- 
over, not  only  this  here  bay,  but  the  hull  coast  all 
along  to  Besting.  Why,  I'm  at  home  here  on  the 
rollin  biller.  I'm  the  man  for  Mount  Desert,  an 
Quoddy  Head,  an  Grand  Mauar..,  an  ail  other  places 


134 


LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 


tliiit  air  ticklisli  to  thu  giiirality  of  rioafai'iii  inf^n. 
Why,  N'uuiig  sir,  you  see  before  you,  in  tlie  liuiHl)le 
au  uuassuuiin  person  of  the  aged  Corbet,  a  liviii, 
niuvin,  and  sea-goin  edition  of  JJhmt's  Coast  Tiiot, 
revised  and  improved  to  a  precious  siglit  better 
condition  than  it's  ever  possible  for  tliein  fellers  in 
Besting  to  get  out.  By  JMunt's  Coast  Pilot,  young 
sir,  I  allude  to  a  celebrated  book,  as  big  as  a  pork 
bar'l,  that  every  skipj^cr  has  in  his  locker,  to  guide 
liiiH  t)n  his  wanderin  way  —  ony  inc.  I  don't  have 
no  call  to  use  sech,  being  myself  a  edition  of  use- 
ful information  tcchin  all  coastin  matters." 

The  Antelope  njw  proceeded  quickly  on  her 
way.     Several  nnles  were  traversed. 

'•  Now,  boys,  look  sharp,"  said  the  captain ; 
''  you'll  soon  see  the  settlement." 

They  looked  sharp. 

For  a  few  moments  they  went  onward  througli 
the  water,  and  at  length  there  was  visible  just  be- 
fore them  what  seemed  like  a  dark  cloud  extending 
all  along.  A  few  minutes  further  progress  made 
the  dark  cloud  still  darker,  and,  advancing  further, 
the  dark  cloud  finally  dis(;losed  itself  as  a  line  of 
coast.  It  was  close  by  them,  and,  even  while  they 
were  recognizing  it  as  land,  they  saw  before  them 
the  outline  of  a  wharf. 

"  Good  agin  !  "  cried  the  captain.  ''  I  didn't 
come  to  the  wharf  I  wanted,  but  this  hevo'll  do  as 
well  as  any  other,  an  1  don't  know  Init  what  it'll  do 
better.  Here  we  air,  boys.  Stand  by  thar,  mate, 
to  let  fall  the  jib." 


I 


ON   SHORE. 


135 


On  they  went,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  the  An- 
telope wore  round,  and  her  side  just  grazed  tlie 
wharf*.  The  mate  jumped  ashore,  hues  were  se- 
cured, and  tiie  Antelope  lay  in  safety. 

"  An  now,  boys,  we  may  all  go  ashore,  an  see  if 
we  can  hear  anything  about  the  boat." 

With  these  words  Captain  Corbet  stepped  upon 
the  wharf,  followed  by  all  the  boys,  and  they  all 
went  up  together,  till  they  found  themselves  on  a 
road.  There  they  saw  a  shop,  and  into  this  they 
entered.  No  time  was  to  bo  lost ;  the  captain  at 
once  told  his  story,  and  asked  his  question. 
The  answer  was  soon  made. 

Nothing  whatever  was  known  there  about  any 
boat.  Two  or  three  schooners  had  arrived  within 
two  days,  and  the  slioi)keeper  had  seen  the  skip- 
pers, but  they  had  not  mentioned  any  boat.  No 
boat  had  drifted  ashore  anywhere  near,  nor  had  any 
strange  lad  arrived  at  the  settlement. 
Tliis  intelligence  depressed  them  all. 
''  Wal,  wal,"  said  the  captain,  ''  1  didn't  have 
much  hopes;  it's  jest  as  I  feared;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  ril  ask  furtlier.  An  first  and  foremost  I'll  go 
an  see  them  schooners." 

He  then  went  off  with  the  boys  in  search  of  the 
schooners  just  mentioned.  These  were  found 
without  difficulty.  One  had  come  from  up  the 
bay,  another  from  St.  John,  and  a  third  from  East- 
l)ort.  None  of  tliem  had  encountered  anything 
like   a  drifting   boat.     The   one  from   up   the   bay 


> 


136  LOST    IN   THE   FOG. 

afforded  them  the  greatest  puzzle.  She  must  have 
come  down  the  very  uight  of  Tom's  accident.  If 
he  did  drift  down  the  bay  in  his  boat,  h(3  must  liave 
been  not  very  far  from  the  schooner.  In  clear 
weather  he  could  not  have  escaped  notice  ;  but  the 
skipper  had  seen  nothing,  and  heard  nothing.  lie 
had  to  beat  down  against  the  wind,  and  anchor 
when  the  tide  was  rising ;  but,  though  he  thus 
traversed  so  great  an  extent  of  water,  nothing 
whatever  attracted  his  attention. 

"  This  sets  me  thinkin,''  said  the  captain,  "  tliat, 
perhaps,  he  mayn't  have  drifted  down  at  all.  He 
may  have  run  ashore  up  thar.  Thar's  a  chance 
of  it,  an  we  must  all  try  to  think  of  that,  and  cheer 
up,  as  long  as  we  can." 

Leaving  the  schooners,  the  captain  now  went 
through  the  settlement,  and  made  a  few  inquiries, 
with  no  further  result.  Nothing  had  been  heard 
by  any  one  about  any  drifting  boat,  and  they  were 
at  last  compelled  to  see  that  in  Quaco  there  was  no 
further  hope  of  gaining  any  information  whatever 
about  Tom. 

After  this,  the  captain  informed  tlio  boys  that 
he  was  going  back  to  the  schooner  to  sleep. 

"  I  haven't  slop  a  wink,"  said  he,  ^'  senco  we  left 
Grand  Pro,  and  that's  more'n  human  natur  can  gin- 
rally  stand ;  so  now  I'm  bound  to  have  my  sleep 
out,  an  prepare  for  the  next  trip.  You  boys  had 
better  emply  yourselves  in  inspectin  this  hero 
village." 


\ 


QUACO. 


137 


no 


left 

eep 
liad 
lero 


"  When  shall  we  leave  Quaco  ?  " 

"  Wal,  I'll  think  that  over.  I  haven't  yet  made 
up  my  mind  as  tt)  what's  best  to  be  done  next. 
One  thing  seems  certain.  There  ain't  no  use  goin 
out  in  his  fog,  an  I've  half  a  mind  to  wait  here 
till  to-morrow." 

''  To-morrow  !  " 

"  Yes,  —  an  then  go  down  to  St.  John." 

''  But  what'll  poor  Tom  be  doing  ?  " 

"  It's  my  firm  belief  that  he's  all  right,"  said 
Ca})tain  Corbet,  confidently.  "  At  any  rate,  you'd 
better  walk  about  now,  an  I'll  try  an  git  some 
sleep." 

As  there  was  nothing  better  to  be  done,  the 
boys  did  as  he  proposed,  and  wandered  about  the 
village.  It  was  about  two  miles  long,  witli  houses 
scattered  at  intervals  along  the  single  street  of 
which  it  was  composed,  with  here  and  there  a 
ship-yard.  At  one  end  was  a  long,  projecting  ledge, 
witli  a  light-house  ;  at  the  other  there  was  a  ro- 
mantic valley,  through  which  a  stream  ran  into  the 
bay.  On  the  other  side  of  this  stream  were  cliffs 
of  sandstone  rocks,  in  which  were  deep,  cavernous 
hollows,  worn  by  the  waves;  beyond  this,  again, 
was  a  long  line  of  a  precipitous  shore,  in  whose 
sides  were  curious  slielves,  idong  which  it  was 
possible  to  walk  for  a  great  distance,  with  the  sea 
thundering  on  the  rocks  beneath.  At  vuy  otlier 
time  they  wouUl  liave  taken  an  intense  enjoyment 
iu  u  place  like  this,   where   there  were    so  many 


138  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

varied  scenes  ;  but  now  tlieir  sense  uf  enjoyment 
was  blunted,  for  they  carried  in  their  minds  a  per- 
petual anxiety.  None  the  less,  however,  did  tliey 
wander  about,  peneti'atin<^  up  the  valley,  exploring 
the  caverns,  and  traversing  the  cliiTs. 

They  did  not  return  to  tlie  schooner  till  dusk. 
It  would  not  be  high  tide  till  midnight,  and  so  they 
prolonged  their  excursion  purposely,  so  as  to  use 
up  the  time.  On  reaching  the  schooner  they  were 
welcomed  by  Captain  Corbet. 

'^  I  declar,  boys,"  said  he,  ^'  I'm  getting  to  be  a 
leetle  the  biggest  old  fool  that  ever  lived.  It's  all 
this  accident.  It's  onmanned  me.  I  had  a  nap  for 
two  or  three  hours,  but  waked  at  six,  an  ever 
sence  I've  been  a  worretin  an  a  frettin  about  youns. 
Sence  that  thar  accident,  I  can't  bar  to  have  you 
out  of  my  sight,  for  I  fear  all  the  time  tliat  you  ar 
gcttin  into  miscliief.  An  now  I've  been  skeart  for 
two  mortal  hours,  a  fancyin  you  all  tumblin  down 
from  the  clilfs,  or  a  strugglin  in  the  waters." 

'^  0,  wo  can  take  care  of  ourselves,  captain," 
said  liart. 

"  No,  you  can't  —  not  you.  I  wouldn't  trust  one 
of  you.  I'm  gettin  to  be  a  feeble  creetur  too,  —  so 
don't  go  away  agin." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  we'll  liavo  a  chance  in  Qua- 
co.     Arn't  we  going  to  leave  to-night?" 

"  Wal,  tliat  thar  is  jest  the  pint  that  Pvo  been 
moosin  on.  You  see  it's  thick  ;  the  fog's  as  bad  as 
over.    What's  tho  use  of  going  out  to-uight  ?    Now, 


CLEAR    AND    BRIGHT. 


139 


ef  wo  wait  till  to-morrow,  it  iiuiy  bo  clear,  an  then 
wo  can  (locide  what  to  do.'* 

At  this  propo-'al,  the  boys  were  silent  for  a  time. 
The  experience  which  they  had  formed  of  the  bay 
and  its  fogs  showed  them  how  nseless  wonld  be 
any  search  by  night,  and  the  prospect  of  a  clear 
day,  and,  possibly,  a  more  favorable  wind  on  the 
morrow,  was  very  attractive.  The  question  was 
debated  by  all,  and  considered  in  all  its  bear- 
ings, and  the  discussion  went  on  until  late,  when 
it  was  finally  decided  that  it  would  be,  on  the 
whole,  the  wisest  course  to  wait  until  the  follow- 
ing day.  Not  the  least  iniluential  of  the  many 
considerations  that  occurred  was  their  regard  for 
Captain  Corbet.  'I'hey  saw  thtit  he  was  utterly 
worn  out  for  want  of  sleej),  and  pe''ceived  how 
nnich  he  needed  one  night's  rest.  This  il'ially  de- 
cided them. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  they  were  all  up, 
and  eager  to  see  if  there  was  any  change  in  the 
W'cathor.  The  first  glance  around  elicited  a  cry 
of  admiration  from  all  of  them.  Above,  all  was 
clear  and  briglit.  The  sun  was  shining  with  daz- 
zling lustre ;  the  sky  was  of  a  deep  blue,  and  with- 
out a  cloud  on  its  wdiole  expanse ;  while  the;  wide 
extent  of  the  bay  si)read  out  before  them,  blue  like 
the  sky  above,  which  it  mirrored,  and  throwing  up 
its  weaves  to  catch  the  sunlight.  A  fresh  north 
^\  iiid  was  blowing,  and  all  the  air  and  all  the  sea 
was  full  of  light  and  joy. 


140  LOST    IN    THE    F0(;. 

Tlio  sct'iio  aroiiml  was  in  ovury  I'cspect  miiu^nill- 
vrut.  Tlic  lido  was  low.  aiul  Uio  l)ri);ul  lu-ach,  which 
now  was  inu'oviTcd  by  the  walris,  spread  alar  lo 
the  ri^ht  and  loll  in  a  long'  crescent  tliat  extended 
lor  miles.  On  its  lower  extremity  it  was  terniiiiat- 
cd  hy  a  ledge  of  black  nx'ks,  with  the  light-honso 
before  spoken  of,  Avliile  its  iH)[)er  end  was  bounded 
by  cavernous  elills  oi'  red  sandstone,  Avhich  were 
crowned  with  tufted  trees.  Behind  them  weie  the 
white  houses  of  the  village,  straggling  irregulai'ly 
on  the  borders  of  the  long  road,  with  here  and 
there  the  nnlinislied  fabric  of  some  huge  ship; 
while  in  the  background  were  wooded  liills  and 
green  sloping  lields.  Out  on  the  l)ay  a  grander 
scene  appeared.  Far  down  arose  a  Avhite  wall, 
which  marked  the  place  Avdiero  the  fog  clouds  were 
sullenly  retreating;  immediately  opposite, and  forty 
miles  away  over  the  water,  arose  the  long  line  of 
the  Nova  Scotia  coast,  whic;h  bounded  the  horizon; 
while  far  up  arose  Cape  Chignecto,  and  beside  it 
towered  up  the  dark  form  of  a  lonely  island,  which 
they  knew,  in  spite  of  the  evident  distortion  of  its 
sha})e,  to  be  no  other  than  He  Ilautc. 

The  wondrous  eilects  which  can  be  produced 
by  the  atmosphere  were  never  more  visible  to  their 
eyes  than  now.  The  coast  of  Nova  Scotia  rose  high 
in  the  air,  dark  in  color,  apparently  only  half  its 
actual  distance  away,  while  the  sunnin't  of  that  coast 
seemed  as  level  as  a  table.  It  seemed  lik(^  some 
vast  structure  which  had  been  raised  out  of  the 


ILE   HAUTE. 


141 


water  during*  tlio  iiig"l»t  by  some  magic  pov/er.  Ilo 
JTauto  arose  to  an  extraordiiuuy  beiglit,  its  summit 
perfectly  level,  its  s*des  perfectly  perpendicular,  and 
its  color  a  dark  purple  hue.  Nor  was  Cape  Cliig- 
necto  less  changed.  The  rugged  cliiT  arose  with 
magnified  proportions  to  a  majestic  height,  iind 
took  u})on  itself  the  same  sombre  color,  which  pei*- 
vaded  the  ndiolo  of  the  opposite  coast. 

Another  discussion  was  now  begun  as  to  their 
best  })lan  of  action.  After  talking  it  all  over,  it 
was  yinally  decided  to  go  to  St.  John.  1'here  they 
would  have  a  l)etter  oj^portunity  of  hearing  about 
Tom;  and  there,  too,  if  they  did  hear,  they  could 
send  messages  to  him,  or  receive  them  from  him. 
So  it  was  decided  to  leave  at  about  eleven  o'clock, 
without  waiting  for  high  tid(^ ;  for,  as  the  wind  was 
fair,  tliey  could  go  on  without  difliculty.  After 
coming  to  this  conclusion,  and  learning  that  the 
tide  would  not  be  high  enough  to  float  the  schooner 
until  eleven,  they  all  took  breakfast,  and  stimulated 
by  the  exhilarating  atinosjihere  and  the  bright  sun- 
shin(^,  they  dispersed  down  the  village  towards  the 
light-house. 

By  ten  o'clock  they  were  back  again.  The  tide 
was  not  yet  up,  and  they  waited  patiently. 

"  By  the  way,  captain,"  asked  Bart,  "  what's  be- 

^'  come  of  Solomon  ?  '' 

"  Solomon?     0,  he  took  a  basket  an  went  off  ou 

.,  a  kine  o'  foraij^in  tower." 
_  "  Foraging  V  " 


142 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


"Yes.  Pie  said  he'd  go  along  the  shore,  and 
hunt  for  lobsters." 

"  The  shore  ?     What  shore  ?  " 

"  Why,  away  up  tliar,"  said  the  captain,  point- 
ing towards  the  headland  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
village. 

"  How  long  since  ?  " 

"  Wal,  jest  arter  breakfast.  It  must  hev  ben 
afore  seven." 

"  It's  strange  that  he  hasn't  got  back." 

"  Yes  ;  he'd  ought  to  be  back  by  this  time." 

"  He  can't  get  any  lobsters  now ;  the  tide  is  too 
high." 

"  That's  a  fact." 

They  waited  half  an  hour.  The  rising  tide  al- 
ready touched  the  Antelope's  keel.        '^'^  ■ 

"  Solomon  ought  to  be  back,"  cried  Bart,  start- 
ing up. 

"  That's  so,"  said  Captain  Corbet. 

"  I'm  afraid  something's  happened.  He's  been 
gone  too  long.     Two  hours  were  enough."^^ 

The  boys  all  looked  at  one  another  with  anxious 
foces. 

"  If  he  went  up  that  shore,"  said  Bart,  "  he  may 
have  got  caught  by  the  tide.  It's  a  very  danger- 
ous place  for  anybody  —  let  alone  an  old  man  like 
him." 

"  Wal,  he  did  go  up  thar  ;  he  said  partic'lar  that 
he  wanted  to  find  somethin  of  a  relish,  an  would 
hunt  up  thar.     He  said,  too,  he'd  be  back  by  nine." 


Where's  solomon  ? 


143 


"Pm  certain  sometliing's  happened,"  cried  Bart, 
more  anxiously  tlian  before.  ''  If  he's  gone  up 
there,  he's  been  caught  by  tlie  tide." 
Captain  Corbet  stared,  and  looked  uneasy. 
"  Wal,  I  must  say,  that  thar's  not  onlikely.  It's 
a  bad  place,  a  dreadful  bad  place,  —  an  him  an  old 
man,  — a  dreadful  bad  place.  He'd  be  down  here 
l)y  this  time,  ef  he  was  alive." 

"  I  won't  wait  any  longer,"  cried  Bart.  "  I  must 
go  and  see.  Come  along,  boys.  Don't  let's  leave 
poor  old  Solomon  in  danger.  Depend  upon  it,  he's 
caught  up  there  somewhere." 

"  Wal,  I  think  you're  right,"  said  Captain  Cor- 
bet, "  an  I'll  go  too.  But  ef  we  do  go,  we'd  better 
go  with  some  preparations." 

"  Preparations  ?     What  kind  of  preparations  ?  " 
"0,  ony  a  rope  or  two,"  said  Captain  Corbet ;  and 
taking  a  coil  of  rope  over  his  arm,  ho  stepped  ashore, 
and  all  the  boys  hurried  after  him. 

"  I  feel  kino  o'  safer  with  a  kilo  o'  rope,—  bein  a 
seaiiirin  man,"  he  remarked.  "  Give  a  seafarin  man 
a  rupe,  an  he'll  go  anywhar  an  do  anythin.  He's 
like  a  spider  onto  a  web." 


144 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


X. 


Tom  asJiore.  —  Storm  at  Night.  —  Up  in  the  Morn- 
ing. —  The  Cliffs  and  the  Beach.  —  A  startling 
Discovery.  —  A  desert  Island.  —  A  desperate 
Effort.  —  Afloat  again. 


()M  slept  soundly  for  a  long  time  in  the  spot 
wliorc  ho  had  filing  himself.  The  sense  of 
security  came  to  the  assistance  of  ns  wea- 
ried limbs,  and  lulled  him  into  profounder  slumbers. 
There  was  nothing  here  tiiat  nn'ght  rudely  awaken 
him  —  no  sudden  boat  shocks,  no  tossings  and 
heavings  of  waves,  no  hoarse,  menacing  thunders 
of  wrathful  surges  from  rocky  shores ;  nor  were 
there  distressing  dreams  to  harass  him,  or  any 
anxieties  carried  from  his  waking  hours  into  the 
land  of  slumbers  to  annoy  and  to  arouse.  From 
Monday  night  until  this  time  on  Thursday,  he  had 
known  but  little  sleep,  and  much  flitigue  and  sor- 
row. Now  the  fi\tigue  and  the  sorrow  were  all 
forgotten,  and  the  sleep  was  all  his  own.  Not  a 
thought  had  he  given  to  the  land  which  he  had 
reached  i^o  strangely.  It  was  enough  for  him  that 
he  felt  the  st)lid  ground  beneath  his  feet. 


»  ! 


del 
dui 
wl. 
cIk 


»    < 


TAKING    A   SURVEY. 


145 


Fur  hours  ho  slopt  there,  lying  there  like  a  log, 
wrapped  in  the  old  sail,  moving  not  a  limb,  but 
given  up  altogether  to  his  refreshing  slumber. 
At  length  he  waked,  and,  uncovering  his  head, 
looked  around.  At  first  he  thought  that  he  was  in 
the  boat,  then  he  grew  bewildered,  and  it  was  only 
after  a  persistent  effort  of  memory  that  he  could 
recollect  his  position. 

He  looked  all  around,  l)ut  nothing  was  visible. 
There  was  nothing  around  hin,  but  darkness,  intense 
and  utter.  It  was  like  the  impenetrable  veil  that 
had  enshrouded  liim  during  the  night  of  his  memo- 
rable voyage.  Ho  could  not  see  where  his  boat  was. 
A  vague  ideawdiichhe  had  of  examining  its  fasten- 
ing was  dismissed.  He  felt  hungry,  and  found  the 
biscuit  box  lying  under  one  corner  of  the  sail.  A 
few  of  these  were  sufficient  to  gratify  his  hunger. 
Nothing  more  could  be  done,  and  he  saw  plainly 
that  it  would  l)c  necessary  for  him  to  wait  there 
jKitiently  until  morning.  Once  more,  therefore,  he 
lollod  himself  up  in  the  sail,  and  tried  to  go  to 
sleoi).  But  at  first  his  efforts  were  vain.  The 
first  fatigue  had  passed  away,  and  now  that  he  had 
been  refreshed  by  sleep,  his  mind  was  too  much  oc- 
cupied by  thoughts  of  his  past  voyage  to  be  readi- 
ly lulled  to  sleep  again.  He  could  not  help  won- 
dering what  Captain  Corbet  and  the  boys  were 
doing.  That  they  were  searching  for  him  every- 
where ho  well  knew,  but  which  direction  they  had 
chosen  he  could  not  tell.  And  what  was  the  place 
10 


^ 


>', 


i» 


146 


LOST    IN   THE   FOG. 


wliitlicr  lio  liad  (Irif'tod?  Ho  felt  confident  tli;it  it 
was  the  muutli  uf  the  Petitcodiac,  and  could  not 
help  wondering  at  the  accuracy  of  his  course ; 
yet,  while  wondering,  he  modestly  refrained  lioin 
taking  the  credit  of  it  to  himself,  and  rather  chose 
To  attrihute  it  to  the  wind  and  tide.  It  was  hy 
committing  himself  so  completely  to  their  guid- 
ance, he  thought,  that  he  had  done  so  well. 

In  the  midst  of  such  thoughts  as  these,  Tom  be- 
came aware  of  the  howling  of  the  wind  and  the 
dash  of  the  waters.  Putting  forth  his  head,  he 
found  that  there  was  quite  a  storm  arising;  and  this 
only  added  to  his  contentment.  No  fear  had  he 
now,  on  this  solid  ground,  of  rising  wind  or  swell- 
ing wave.  Even  the  fog  had  lost  its  terrors.  It 
was  with  feelings  like  these  that  he  once  more 
covered  up  his  head  from  the  night  blast ;  and  not 
long  after  he  was  once  more  asleep. 

When  he  next  awaked,  it  was  day.  Starting  to 
his  feet,  he  looked  around  him,  and  shouted  for  joy. 
The  sky  was  clear.  The  sun  was  rising,  and  its 
rays,  coming  from  over  the  distant  hills,  were  glit- 
tering over  the  surface  of  the  watei.  The  wind 
had  changed.     The  fog  had  dispersed. 

No  sooner  had  he  seen  this  than  he  was  filled 
with  curiosity  to  know  where  he  was.  This  did 
not  look  much  like  the  mouth  of  the  Petitcodiac. 
He  stared  around  with  a  very  strange  sensation. 

Immediately  beside  him,  where  he  was  standing, 
the  easy   slope  went  back  for  a  hundred  yards  or 


> 


T 


THE    riJFFS    ANT)   TlfE    BEACH. 


147 


so,  covered  with  sliort,  wild  gr;iss,  witli  here  and 
there  a  stunted  tree.  Turning  round,  lie  saw  the 
land  rising  hy  a  steep  acclivity  towards  the  heights 
which  bordered  on  the  sea  in  such  tremendous 
cliifs.  Over  the  heights,  and  along  the  crest  of 
those  (^liiTs,  were  Hying  great  liocks  of  sea-gulls, 
wdiich  kept  up  one  incessant  chorus  of  harsh,  dis. 
cordant  screams.  In  front  of  him  spread  out  a 
bi'oad  sheet  of  water,  on  the  o])posite  side  of  which 
arose  a  lofty  line  of  coast.  Into  this  tiiere  })en' 
etrated  a  long  strait,  beyond  which  he  could  see 
l)r()ad  waters  and  distant  shores  —  a  bay  within  a 
bay,  approached  by  this  strait.  On  each  side  of 
the  strait  wore  lofty,  towering  cliffs ;  and  on  one 
side,  in  ])articular.  the  dill's  were  perpendicular, 
and  ran  on  in  a  long  and  unbroken  wall.  The  ex- 
tremity of  the  cliff  nearest  him  was  marked  by  a 
gigantic  mass  of  broken  rock,  detached  from  the 
main  land,  and  standing  alone  in  awful  grandeur. 

What  place  was  this?  Was  this  the  mouth  of 
the  Petitcodiac  ?  Was  that  broad  bay  a  river? 
Was  he  still  dreaming,  or  what  did  it  all  mean  ? 
And  that  gigantic  fragment  severed  from  a  cliff, 
which  thus  stood  guard  at  the  entrance  of  a  long- 
strait,  wdiat  was  that?  Could  it  be  possible?  Was 
there  indeed  any  other  broken  cape,  or  could  it  be 
possible  that  this  was  Cape  Split? 

He  hurried  up  the  slope,  and  on  reaching  tho 
top,  saw  that  it  descended  on  the  other  side  to- 
wards the  water.     This  water  was  a  broad  sheet, 


148  LOST  IN  THE  For,. 


i 


wliich  extended  for  seven  or  eight  miles,  and 
wfis  terminated  by  a  lofty  coast,  that  extended 
down  tlie  bay  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  One 
com[)rchensiye  glance  was  sufficient.  He  saw  it 
all,  and  understood  it  all.  It  was  not  the  mouth 
of  the  Petitcodiac  Riyer.  It  was  the  entrance  to 
the  ]'>asin  of  Minas  that  lay  before  him.  There  lay 
the  great  landmarks,  seen  under  new  aspects,  it  is 
true,  yet  now  sufficiently  distinguishable.     There  I 

was  the  Noya  Scotia  coast.  In  yonder  hollow  was 
Sci^tt's  Bay.  That  giant  rock  was  Cape  Split. 
The  long  channel  was  the  Strait  of  Minas,  and  the 
clilVs  opposite  were  Cape  d'Or  and  Cape  Chignecto. 
And  now  the  recognition  of  all  these  places 
brought  to  him  a  great  and  sudden  shock. 

For  what   was   this   place  on  which    he  stood? 
Was  it  any  part  of  the  main  land  ? 
It  was  not. 
lie  looked  around. 
It  was  an  island. 

He  saw  its  K)fty  cliffs,  its  wooded  crest,  its  flocks 
of  sea-gulls,  its  sloping  east  end,  where  he  stood, 
running  down  to  a  low  point.  He  had  seen  them 
all  at  a  distance  before ;  and  now  that  he  stood  here, 
he  recognized  all. 

He  was  on  He  Haute  1 

The  moment  that  he  recognized  this  startling 
fact,  lie  thought  of  his  boat.  He  hurried  to  the 
boiieh.  The  tide  was  very  low.  To  his  inunense  re- 
lief he  found  the  fastening  of  the  boat  secure,  and  he 


A   STARTLING    DISCOVERY. 


UO 


turned  away  at  once,  without  any  further  exami- 
nation, to  think  over  liis  situation,  and  consider  the 
best  plan  for  reaching  the  main  lan(h  Making  a 
comfortable  seat  lor  himself  on  the  sail,  he  sat 
down,  and  drawing  out  the  box,  he  took  some  Ijis- 
cuit.  Then  feeling  thirsty,  he  went  off  in  search 
of  fresh  water.  Before  he  had  walked  many  pacew 
he  found  a  brook. 

The  brook  was  a  small  one,  which  ran  from  tiie 
lofty  west  end  of  the  island  to  the  low  land  of  llie 
east,  and  thence  into  the  bay.  The  water  was  good, 
and  Tom  satisfied  his  thirst  by  a  long  draught. 

Judging  by  the  position  of  the  sun,  it  was  now 
about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning;  and  Tom  seated 
himself  once  more,  and  began  to  try  to  think  how 
it  was  thai  iie  should  have  come  in  a  direction  so 
entirely  dillerent  from  the  one  which  he  had  l»e- 
lieved  himself  to  be  taking.  He  had  fully  expected 
to  laud  at  Petitcodiac,  and  he  found  himself  far 
away  on  the  other  side  of  the  bay.  Yet  a  little 
reflection  showed  him  how  useless  it  was  to  try  to 
recall  his  past  voyage,  and  how  impossible  it  was 
for  him'  to  account  for  it,  ignorant  as  he  was  of  the 
true  direction  of  the  wind  and  of  the  tide.  He 
contented  himself  with  marking  a  rude  outline  of 
his  course  on  Jiis  memorandum  book,  making  allow- 
ance for  the  time  when  he  turned  on  that  course  ; 
and  having  sunnnecl  it  all  up  to  his  own  satisfaction 
in  a  crooked  line  which  looked  like  a  slip-knot,  ho 
turned  his  attention  to  more  important  matters. 


150 


LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 


There  was  one  matter  of  first-rate  importance 
which  now  pressed  itself  upon  his  thoughts,  and 
tliat  was,  how  to  escape  from  his  present  situation. 
As  far  as  he  could  see,  there  was  no  inhabitant  on 
the  island,  no  house,  no  cultivation,  and  no  domestic 
animal.  If  there  had  been  anything  of  that  kind, 
they  would  be  visible,  he  knew,  from  the  i)oint 
where  he  was  standing.  But  all  was  deserted  ;  and 
beyond  the  open  ground  in  his  neighborhood  arose 
the  east  end,  wooded  all  over  its  lofty  summit. 
From  Captain  Corbet's  words,  and  Irom  his  own 
observation,  he  knew  that  it  was  a  desert  island, 
and  that  if  he  wished  to  escape  he  would  have  to 
rely  altogether  upon  his  own  resources. 

With  this  conclusion  he  once  more  turned  his 
attention  to  his  surroundings. 

Nearest  to  him  was  Cape  d'Or,  about  four  miles 
away,  and  Cape  Split,  which  was  some  distance 
farther.  Then  there  was  the  Nova  Scotia  shore, 
which  appeared  to  be  seven  or  eight  miles  distant. 
On  the  beach  and  within  sight  was  the  boat  which 
oflered  a  sure  and  easy  mode  of  passing  over  to 
the  main  land.  But  no  sooner  did  he  recognize  this 
fact  than  a  difliculty  arose.  How  was  he  to  make 
the  passage  ?  The  boat  had  come  ashore  at  high 
tide,  and  was  close  up  to  the  grassy  bank.  The 
tide  was  far  down,  and  between  the  boat  and  the 
water  was  a  broad  beach,  covered  with  cobble- 
stones, and  interspersed  with  gi-anite  boulders.  It 
was  too  heavy  a  weight  for  him  to  move  any  dis- 


:: 


SERIOUS    DIFFICULTIES. 


151 


tanco,  mid  to  force  it  down  to  tlie  water  over  such 
a  beach  was  plainly  impossible.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  might  wait  until  the  boat  floated  at  high  tide, 
and  tlien  embark.  But  this,  again,  would  be  at- 
tended with  serious  difficulties.  The  tide,  lie  saw, 
would  turn  as  soon  as  he  should  get  fiiirly  afloat, 
and  then  he  would  have  to  contend  with  the  down- 
ward current.  True,  he  might  use  his  sail,  and  in 
that  case  he  might  gain  the  Nova  Scotia  shore  ;  but 
his  experience  of  the  tides  had  been  so  terrible  a 
one,  that  he  dreaded  the  tremendous  drift  which  he 
would  have  to  encounter,  and  had  no  confidence  in 
his  power  of  navigating  under  such  circumstances. 
Besides,  he  knew  well  that  although  the  wind 
was  now  from  the  north,  it  was  liable  to  change  at 
any  moment;  so  that  even  if  he  should  be  aide  to 
guide  his  boat,  ho  might  yet  be  suddenly  enveloped 
by  a  fog  when  but  half  way  over,  and  exposed  once 
more  to  all  those  perils  from  which  he  had  just 
escaped.  The  mor  >  he  thought  of  all  these  dan- 
gers, the  more  deterred  he  felt  from  making  any 
such  attempt.  Rather  would  he  wait,  and  hope 
for  escape  in  some   other  way. 

But,  as  yet,  he  did  not  feel  himself  forced  to  any- 
thing so  desperate  as  that.  There  was  another 
alternative.  At  high  tide  the  boat  would  be  afloat, 
and  then,  as  the  tide  fell,  he  could  keep  her  afloat 
until  it  was  at  its  lowest.  lie  could  then  embark, 
and  be  carried  by  the  returning  water  straight  on 
to  the  Straits  of  Minus,  and  up  into  the  basin.    lie 


152  LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 

now  made  a  calculation,  and  concluded  that  it  would 
be  high  tide  about  midday,  and  low  tide  about  six 
in  the  evening.  If  he  were  to  embark  at  that  time, 
he  would  have  two  hours  of  daylight  in  which  to 
run  up  with  the  tide.  lie  saw  now  tliat  his  whole 
plan  was  perfectly  feasible,  and  it  only  remained 
to  make  preparations  for  the  voyage.  As  the  whole 
afternoo]!  would  be  taken  up  in  floating  tlio  boat 
down  to  low-water  mark,  the  morning  would  Iiave 
to  be  employed  in  making  whatever  arrangements 
might  be  necessary. 

Certain  things  were  needed  which  required  all 
that  time.  His  hastily  extemporized  mast  and  sail 
had  done  wonderfully  well,  but  he  needed  something 
to  steer  with.  If  he  could  only  procure  something 
that  would  serve  the  purpose  of  a  rudder,  he  would 
feel  well  prepared  for  his  voyage. 

On  the  search  for  this  he  now  started.  He 
walked  all  about  the  open  ground,  looking  around 
in  all  directions,  to  see  if  he  could  find  anything, 
but  without  any  success.  Then  he  ascended  the 
declivity  towards  the  woods,  but  nothing  appeared 
which  was  at  all  adapted  to  meet  his  wants.  He 
saw  a  young  tree,  which  he  thought  might  do,  and 
tried  to  cut  it  down  with  his  pocket-knife.  After 
about  an  hour's  hard  work  he  succeeded  in  bring- 
ing it  down,  and  another  hour  was  spent  in  trim- 
ming the  branches.  The  result  of  all  this  labor  at 
length  lay  at  his  feet  in  the  sha{)e  of  a  rough  pole, 
with  jagged  splinters  sticking  out  all  over  it,  which 


1 

; 


I 


ASPECT    OF   THE    BEACH. 


153 


promised  to  be  of  about  as  much  utility  as  a  spruce 
bush.  In  utter  disgust  he  turned  away,  leaving 
the  pole  on  the  ground,  and  making  up  his  mind  to 
sail,  as  he  did  belbre,  witliout  any  rudder.  In  this 
mood  he  descended  the  declivity,  and  walked  dis- 
consolately towards  the  shore  which  was  on  the 
side  of  the  island  directly  opposite  to  where  the 
boat  lay.  He  had  not  yet  been  near  enough  to  see 
the  beach ;  but  now,  as  he  came  nearer,  a  cry  of 
delight  escaped  him  involuntarily  ;  for  there,  all 
along  the  beach,  and  close  up  to  the  bank,  lay  an 
immense  quantity  of  drift-wood,  which  had  been 
brought  here  by  the  tide  from  all  the  upper  waters 
of  the  bay.  It  was  a  most  heterogeneous  mixture 
that  lay  before  him  —  chips  from  timber  ponds,  logs 
from  ship-yards,  boards  from  saw-mills,  deals,  bat- 
tens, fence  posts,  telegraph  poles,  deal  ends,  edg- 
ings, laths,  palings,  railway  sleepers,  treenails, 
shingles,  clapboards,  and  all  the  various  forms 
which  wood  assumes  in  a  country  whi(;h  makes 
use  of  it  as  the  chief  material  of  its  manuliictures. 
Along  the  countless  streams  that  flow  into  the  bay, 
and  along  its  far-winding  shores,  and  along  the 
borders  of  all  its  subsidiary  bays,  and  inlets,  and 
basins,  the  manufacture  of  wood  is  carried  on  — 
in  saw-mills,  in  ship-yards,  and  in  timber  ponds; 
mid  the  currents  that  move  to  and  fro  are  always 
loaded  with  the  fragments  that  are  snatched  away 
from  these  places,  most  of  which  are  borne  afar  (jut 
to  sea,  but  many  of  which  are  thrown  all  along  the 


154  LOST    IN    THE   FOG. 

shores  for  hundreds  of  miles.  He  Haute,  being 
directly  in  the  way  of  some  of  the  swiftest  cur- 
rents, and  close  by  tlie  entrance  to  a  basin  whicli 
is  surrounded  by  mills  and  ship-yards,  naturally 
received  upon  its  shores  an  innnense  quantity  of 
these  scattered  and  floating  fragments.  Such  was 
the  sight  that  now  met  the  eyes  of  Tom,  and  pre- 
sented him  with  a  countless  number  of  fragments 
of  wood  adapted  to  his  wants,  at  the  very  time 
when  he  had  worked  fruitlessly  for  two  hours  at 
fashioning  one  for  himself. 

Looking  over  the  heaps  of  drift-wood,  he  found 
many  pieces  which  suited  him ;  and  out  of  these  ho 
chose  one  which  was  shaped  a  little  like  an  oar. 
Securing  this  prize,  he  walked  over  to  where  the 
sail  was,  and  deposited  it  there. 

Then  he  ate  some  biscuit,  and,  after  taking  a 
draught  from  the  cool  brook,  he  rested,  and  waited, 
full  of  hope,  for  the  rising  of  the  tide. 

It  was  now  rapidly  approaching  the  boat.  Tom 
watched  it  for  some  time,  and  felt  new  happi- 
ness as  he  viewed  the  roll  of  every  little  surf 
Tliere  was  not  much  wind,  and  nothing  but  a 
gentle  ripple  on  the  water.  All  this  was  in  his 
favor ;  for,  if  ho  wished  for  anything  now,  it  was  a 
moderate  breeze  and  a  light  sea.  From  time  to 
time  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  Straits  of  Minas, 
and  arranged  various  plans  in  liis  mind.  At  one 
time  he  resolved  to  try  and  reach  Pereau  ;  again 
he  thouglit  that  he  wtmld  be  content  if  he  could 


^- — ' 


*f 


TOM    IMPATIENT. 


155 


only  get  to  Parrsboro' ;  fiiid  yet  again,  ho  came  to 
the  wise  conclusion  that  if  ho  got  to  any  settle- 
ment at  all  he  would  be  content.  At  another  time 
he  half  decided  to  take  another  course,  and  try  to 
reach  Scott's  Bay,  where  he  felt  sure  uf  a  warm 
welcome  and  a  plenteous  repast.  Aiming  tlius  at 
so  many  diflerent  points,  it  mattered  but  little  to 
him  in  what  particular  direction  the  tide  might 
sweep  him,  so  long  as  it  curried  him  up  the  bay. 

The  tide  now  came  nearer,  and  Tom  went  down 
to  the  beach  for  a  few  moments.  He  paced  the 
distance  between  the  boat  and  the  water.  He  no- 
ticed a  few  things  lying  in  the  boat.  In  the  bow 
was  a  coil  of  rope  which  Captain  Corbet  had  prob- 
ably obtained  when  he  was  ashore  at  Petitcodiac. 
There  was  also  a  tin  pan,  used  for  baling. 

As  the  tide  drew  nearer,  Tom  began  to  feel  more 
and  more  impatient.  Again  and  again  he  paced 
the  intervening  space  between  the  boat  and  the 
water,  and  chafed  and  fretted  because  it  did  not 
lessen  more  rapidly.  If  the  boat  were  once  fairly 
afloat,  he  felt  that  the  time  would  pass  much  more 
rajudly ;  for  then  he  would  be  working  at  some 
definite  task,  and  not  standing  idly  waiting. 

But  everything  has  an  end  ;  and  so,  at  length,  the 
end  came  here.  The  water  rose  higher  and  higher, 
until,  at  length,  it  touched  the  keel.  Tom  gave  a 
shout  of  joy. 

lie  now  untied  tlie  rope,  and  tried  to  shorten  his 
suspense  by  j)ushing  the  boat  towards  the  water  ; 


156  LOST    IN    THE    FOG. 

but  his   strengtli  was  iiisufiiciout.     Tie   could  not 
move  it.     Ho  would  liavc  to  wait  loiiL^cr. 

Thus  far  the  thini;-s  wliidi  lio  had  tukcu  out  had 
bocii  lying  on  the  grass.  It  was  now  time  to  put 
them  on  board.  So  ho  carried  down  the  sail,  folded 
it  uj),  and  stowed  it  away  neally  at  the  bottom  of 
the  boat.  On  this  he  stood  the  box  of  biscuit,  tak- 
ing care  to  put  the  cover  over  it,  and  to  spread 
over  that  again  one  fold  of  the  sail. 

This  took  up  some  time,  and  lie  had  the  gratifi- 
cation of  seeing  that  the  water  had  como  up  a  lew 
feet  farther.     lie  now  tried  once  more  to  force  the 
boat  down,  using  his  piece  of  board  as  a  lever ;  but 
the  board  bent,  and  almost  broke,  without  moving 
the  boat.    He  stood  for  a  moment  waiting,  and  sud- 
denly thought  of  the  pole  which  he  had  left  up  in 
the  woods.     He  determined  to  get  this,  and  per- 
haps, with  its  help,  he  would  be  able  to  accomplish 
his  wishes.     So  off  he  started  at  a  run,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  reached  the   place.     Hurrying  back 
again,  he  inserted  one  end  of  the  pole  under  the 
bow,  and  exerted  all  his  force  to  press  the  boat 
downward  into  the   water.      At    first    it   did  not 
move ;  but  shortly  after,  when  the  water  had  risen 
still  higher,  he  made  a  new  effort.     This  time  he 
succeeded ;  the  boat  moved  slightly. 
Again. 

The  boat  moved  farther. 
Once  more. 
Still  farther. 


AFLOAT    AGAIN. 


157 


And  now  lio  made  a  final  trial.  Thrusting  the 
polo  again  underneath,  he  exerted  all  his  force  for 
the  last  time,  and  pushed  the  boat  down  for  about 
a  yard. 

It  was  at  last  afloat. 

The  tide  had  not  yet  fully  attained  its  height,  but 
was  close  to  it.  The  wind  was  blowing  from'  the 
north,  as  before,  and  quite  moderately.  The  sea 
sparkled  and  glittered  in  the  rays  of  the  sun.  The 
little  wavelets  tossed  their  heads  on  high,  and 
danced  far  away  over  the  sea.  The  air  was  bright, 
and  stimulating,  and  exhilarating.  All  the  scene' 
filled  ^J\)m's  heart  with  gladness ;  and  the  approach 
(jf  his  deliverance  deepened  and  intensified  this 
feeling. 


II 


158 


LOST    IN   TFTE    FOr,. 


XL 


Afloat  again.  —  TJie  rushing  Water.  —  Doion  to  the 
Bottom.  —  Desperate  Circumstanees.  —  Can  they 
he  remedied  ?  —  Neio  Hopes  and  Plans. 


T 


*] 


f! 


1  ( 


£• 


E 


TTE  boat  was  at  last  afloat  before  Tom's 
eyes. 
At  first  he  had  thonglit  of  holding  it  by  the 
painter,  and  patiently  standing  on  the  beach,  bnt  the 
siglit  of  it  now  changed  his  pur})Orios.  lie  thought 
that  it  would  be  a  far  more  sensible  plan  to  get  on 
board,  and  keep  the  boat  near  the  beach  in  that 
way.  His  bit  of  stick,  which  he  had  found  among 
the  drift-wood,  cculd  be  used  as  an  oar,  and  was 
good  enough  to  enable  him  to  move  the  boat  as 
much  as  would  be  necessary.  As  he  would  have 
to  wait  for  six  hours  at  least,  it  was  a  matter  of 
great  importance  that  he  should  be  as  Httle  fa- 
tigued as  possible,  especially  as  he  had  to  look  for- 
ward to  a  voyage,  after  the  tide  had  fallen,  attend- 
ed witli  the  possibility  of  increased  labor  and  ex- 
ertion. All  these  thoughts  came  rapidly  to  his 
mind,  but  passed  in  much  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
tell  it,  so  that  Tom  had  scarcely  seen  the  boat  afloat 


TinO    BOAT    KILLTNO. 


Vy\) 


than  he  rushed  thruiigli  the  water,  r.nd  ckiinbered 
into  it.  Then,  taking  his  stick,  he  stood  up  and 
looked  around. 

Tlie  scene  around  has  ah-eady  been  described. 
Tom  kept  his  stick  in  the  water,  so  as  to  have  it 
ready  lor  use.  lie  purposed  keeping  tiie  boat  at  a 
convenient  distance  from  tlie  shore  by  pusliingand 
paddling.  By  keeping  it  within  a  distance  of  from 
three  to  six  yards,  he  thought  he  would,  for  the 
present  at  least,  be  able  to  keep  afloat,  and  yet 
avoid  the  sweep  of  the  tides.  He  did  not  expect 
to  remain  in  this  particular  spot  all  the  time,  but 
expected  to  find  some  place  which  would  be  out 
of  the  way  of  the  tide,  where  he  could  float  com- 
fortably without  being  forced  to  keep  in  too  clos(^ 
to  the  land. 

But  suddenly  Tom's  thoughts  and  speculations 
were  rudely  interrupted. 

It  appeared  to  him  that  there  was  a  very  unusual 
feeling  about  the  boat.  She  did  not  seem  as  high 
out  of  the  water  as  she  ought  to  have  been,  and 
her  bows  seemed  to  be  lower  than  they  had  been. 
There  was  also  a  shght  vibration  in  her,  which  he 
had  never  noticed  before,  and  which  struck  him 
now  as  very  peculiar.  In  the  midst  of  this  there 
came  to  his  ears  a  low,  fliint,  and  scarcely  percep- 
tible sound,  made  up  of  peculiar  bubbling  and 
gurgling  noises,  which  sounded  from  the  boat. 

One  brief  examination  showed  him  that  the  boat 
was  certainly  very  much  deeper  in  the  water  than 
she  had  been. 


f 


IGO 


LOST   IN   Till']   FOii. 


r 


Five  seconds  later  licr  bows  luul  sunk  flirther. 

Two  seconds  more,  and  Tom's  feet  were  sur- 
rounded by  water  up  to  his  ankles. 

The  boat  was  filling  ! 

Scarce  had  lie  made  this  discovery  than  the  wa- 
ter rose  swiftly  up,  tiie  boat  sank  cpiickly  down, 
the  sea  rolled  over  her  sides,  and  the  boat  went  to 
the  bottom. 

Very  fortunate  was  it  for  Tom,  at  that  moment, 
that  he  had  not  pushed  out  farther  from  the  shore. 
Wlion  the  boat  went  down  he  was  not  more 
tlian  three  or  four  yards  off,  and  he  did  not  sink 
lower  than  up  to  his  neck.  But  the  shock  was  a 
sudden  one,  and  for  a  moment  almost  paralyzed 
i'  him.  The  next  instant,  however,  he  recovered 
from  it ;  and  looking  round,  he  saw  the  box  of  bis- 
cuit floating  within  his  reach.  Making  a  wild  dash 
at  this,  he  secured  it,  and  waded  ashore  with  it  in 
safety.  Ho  then  turned  mournfully  to  look  after 
the  boat,  and  found  that  it  was  visible,  floating  oi» 
tlie  surface.  As  he  left  it,  it  had  floated  up,  his 
weight  being  the  only  thing  that  had  sent  it  below. 
The  tide  was  still  coming  in,  so  that  it  did  not  float 
away.  Tom  flung  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  and 
hurrying  into  the  water,  soon  caught  and  dragged  it 
as  near  as  he  could  to  the  beach.  Then  he  secured 
it  once  more,  and  waited.  Standing  there,  he 
looked  gloomily  at  the  vessel,  wherein  such  pre- 
cious hopes  had  been  freighted  only  to  be  lost. 
What  had   happened  ?     Why   could  not  the  boat 


4 

n 


I 


j^ 


L- 


DESPERATE   CIRCUMSTANCES. 


IGl 


float?  What  was  the  matter  with  her?  Tliese 
were  the  wondering  questions  which  occurred  to 
l»im  without  his  being  able  to  give  any  answer. 

One  thing  he  saw  plainly,  and  that  was,  that  he 
liad  lost  this  tide.  The  next  high  tide  would  be 
after  midnight,  and  the  next  would  be  between  one 
and  two  on  the  following  day.  If  he  could  find  out 
what  was  the  matter  with  the  boat,  and  fix  it,  he 
would  have  to  wait  till  the  next  day,  unless  he 
chose  to  watch  for  his  chance  after  midnight,  and 
make  the  journey  then. 

He  was  not  a  boy  who  could  be  long  inactive ; 
so  now,  after  a  brief  period,  in  which  he  gave  up 
to  the  natural  despondency  of  his  soul,  he  stirred 
himself  up  once  more,  and  sought  comfort  in  oc- 
cupation. The  box  of  biscuit  did  not  seem  much 
injured.  It  had  not  floated  long  enough  foi  the 
sea-water  to  penetrate  it.  Assuring  himself  of  this, 
he  next  turned  to  the  boat  and  took  out  its  con- 
t(^nts.  These  wore  the  old  sail,  the  coil  of  rope, 
and  the  baling  dipper. 

]?y  tliis  time  the  tide  had  reached  its  height,  and 
after  tlie  usual  time  of  delay,  began  to  fall  onct^ 
more.  The  boat  was  secured  to  the  shore,  and 
after  a  time  the  water  began  to  leave  her.  Tom 
sat  at  a  little  distance,  wondering  what  could  be 
the  matter  with  her,  and  deferring  his  examina- 
tion until  the  boat  should  be  left  aground.  It.  was 
a  mystery  to  him  how  this  sudden  chai  go  I.ud  oc- 
curred, and  why  the  boat,  which  had  floated  so  well 
11 


1G2 


LOST    TN   TTTE    FOG. 


(luring  his  long  drift,  should  now,  nil  of  a  sudden, 
begin  to  leak  with  such  astonishing  rapidity. 
Something  must  have  happonod  —  something  se- 
rious, too ;  but  what  it  was,  or  how  it  had  liappened, 
he  could  not,  for  tlie  life  of  him,  conjecture. 

As  'l\)m  sat  there,  t!ie  tide  grachially  left  the 
lK)a,t;  and  as  the  tide  left,  the  watcM'  ran  out,  keep- 
ing at  just  the  same  level  inside  as  the  lyater  out- 
sider Tiiis  showed,  even  to  his  inexperienced  eyes, 
that  the  leak  must  be  a  very  largo  one,  since  it  ad- 
mitted of  such  a  ready  flow  of  water  in  and  out. 
The  water  descended  lower  and  lower  as  ho,  sat, 
until,  at  last,  the  boat  was  left  by  the  retreating 
waves.     The  water  had  all  run  out. 

Tom  now  advanced,  and  proceeded  to  exann'ne 
her.  When  he  was  arranging  her  cargo  before, 
the  coil  of  rope  had  been  in  the  bows.  This  had 
prevented  him  from  detecting  anything  wrong  in 
the  boat.  But  now,  since  everything  had  been 
takcMi  out,  one  glance  only  was  quite  sufHcient  to 
make  known  to  him  instantly  the  whole  diflicu'. y. 
Tiuu'e,  in  the  bows,  underneath  the  very  i)lace  wdi(>re 
th(5  (U)il  of  rope  had  lain,  was  a  huge  a[)ei-tiii'e. 
^riie  planks  had  been  beaten  in,  and  one  side  of  the 
bow  was  destroyed  beyond  hope  of  remedy. 

'I'he  sight  of  such  an  irremediable  cidamity  as 
this  renewed  for  a  tiuK^  the  despondency  which  ho 
had  felt  at  the  first  sinking  of  the  boat.  Full  of 
dcpr(^ssion,  ho  turned  away,  and  tried  to  account 
lor  it  all.     It  was  on  the  previous  day  that  he  had 


I 

I, 


TOM  S    DEPRESSION. 


1G3 


f    ' 


•V- 


>i  >.■* 


laiidcd  —  5il)oiit  twenty-four  hours  ago.  Flow  liad 
lie  })asse(l  the  time  since  then,  and  what  iiad  liap- 
I)ened  ?     This  he  tried  to  renieniher. 

In  the  first  place,  u[)  to  the  moment  of  landing 
tlie  boat  was  pcrfet;tly  sound,  and  i'ar  IVom  all  in- 
iury.  It  liad  not  heen  hurt  (hirinc:  tiie  (hift.  Jt 
had  struck  at  one  place,  hut  the  long  voyage  that 
had  followed  showed  that  no  damaize  had  resulted. 
Finally,  it  had  not  heen  hai*med  hv  landiuii-  on 
Quaco  Ledge.  Since  that  time  he  had  driCted  in 
safety  I'ar  across  the  hay,  without  meeting  with  any 
accident.  All  this  ju'oved  clcai'ly  that  the  damage 
nnist  have  been  (h)ne  to  the  boat  since  his  landing 
on  the  island. 

rie  found  it  very  diflicidt  to  rtvall  aiiythiug  that 
had  hajiptiued  since  tluMi.  On  his  first  ai'i'ival  he 
was  worn  out  and  exiiausteth  He  reuKUiibci'tMl 
vaguely  how  he  came  in  sight  of  the  giant  clil)", 
liovv  he  dragged  the  boat  along,  how  he  sei'ured  it 
"tO'i  tree,  and  then  how  he  flung  himself  down  on 
tiie  gi'ass  and  fell  aslec^j*.  After  that  all  was  ob- 
scure to  his  memory  ;  but  he  could  recall  his  waking 
at  midnight  and  listening  (o  the  roai-  of  the  wind 
and  the  dash  of  the  surf.  Kvidenlly  there  must 
have  been  a  heavier  sea  on  the  beach  at  that  tim(5 
than  when  he  lande(l,  and  lliis  was  sullicient  to  ac- 
count ibr  tlie  accident  to  tlu^  boat.  She  had  been 
li<'atiiigon  th(^  rough  roeks  at  liigh  tide,  exposed 
to  ll»e  lull  swi'ep  of  the  surf,  and  hei"  bows  had 
been  stove  in. 


1G4 


LOST    IN   THE   FOG. 


1 


The  inolanclioly  spoctticlc  of  the  ruined  boat 
iiuulu  Torn  SCO  that  his  stay  on  tlic  island  might  bo 
prolonged  even  beyond  the  Ibllowing  day.  No 
sooner  had  this  tlioULi-ht  occuri'ed  to  him  than  ho 
went  over  to  tiio  articles  which  lie  had  taken  ont 
of  the  boat,  and  passed  them  all  in  re\icw  bclore 
liim,  as  though  ho  were  anxious  to  know  the  iiiil 
extent  of  his  resources.  He  spread  out  tlu^  w«'t 
sail  in  the  sun.  He  spread  out  his  co;it  and  waist- 
coat. In  the  pocket  of  tluj  latter  lu;  lound  a  card 
of  matches,  which  were  a  little  dam[).  These  ho 
seized  eagerly  and  laid  on  the  to})  of  a  stone,  ex- 
posed to  the  rays  of  the  sun,  so  as  to  dry  tluMu. 
Tiio  clothes  which  he  kept  on  were  wet  thiough, 
of  course,  but  ho  allowed  them  to  dry  on  him. 

Ifo  had  been  working  uijw  pretty  industriously 
all  the  morning,  lirst  at  searching  after  a  piece  of 
wood,  then  in  cutting  down  the  pole,  then  in  search- 
ing among  the  drift-wood,  and  iinally  at  the  boat. 
ITci  felt,  at  length,  hungry ;  and  as  he  could  not  yet 
decide  u[)on  what  was  to  be  done  next,  ho  deter- 
mined to  satisfy  his  desires,  and  kill  the  time  by 
taking  his  dinner.  The  repast  was  a  frugal  one, 
consisting,  as  before,  of  biscuit,  which  were  washed 
down  by  cold  woter  ;  but  'I'om  did  not  complain. 
The  presence  of  food  of  any  sort  was  a  cause  for 
thankfulness  to  one  in  his  ])osition,  and  it  was  with 
a  feeling  oi'  tiiis  sort,  in  spite  of  his  general  de- 
pression oi'  spirits,  that  ho  ate  his  meal. 

After  this  he  felt  much   more  refreshed,  and  bo- 


i 


A    REVIVAL    OF    HIS    HOPES. 


IG5 


1 


gall  to  consider  what  lie  had  better  do  next.  Of 
course,  tlie  centre  of  interest  to  liiiii  was  the  boat, 
and  lie  could  not  give  up  that  lio})e  of  escape  with- 
out a  struggle.  As  long  as  there  was  a  hope  of 
making  his  way  froiii  the  island  by  means  of  that, 
so  long  might  lie  keep  u[)  his  heart;  but  if  the 
damage  that  had  been  done  should  prove  irrepara- 
ble, how  Would  he  be  able  to  endure  his  situation  ? 
Whatever  it  was,  it  would  be  best  to  know  the 
worst  once  for  all.  IVrhaps  he  might  stop  the 
leak.  lie  had  material  around  which  seemed  to 
be  the  right  sort  of  thing  to  slo[)  a  leak  with,  lie 
had  the  ])iece  of  s;iil,  whicli  could  be  cut  up  into 
small  pieces,  and  used  to  stop  the  leak.  If  he  had 
possessed  a  hatchet  and  some  nails,  he  would  have 
made  an  elfort  to  repair  the  fracture  in  the  planks 
of  the  boat ;  but  as  he  had  nothing  of  that  sort, 
he  tried  to  devise  some  method  by  which  the 
water  might  be  kept  out.  As  he  thought,  there 
gradually  grew  U})  in'  his  mind  the  rude  outline  of 
a  plan  which  promised  something,  and  seemed  to 
him  to  be  certainly  worth  trying.  At  any  rate, 
he  thought,  it  will  serve  to  give  me  an  occupa- 
tion ;  and  any  occupation,  even  if  it  j)roves  to  be 
of  no  [)ractical  value,  is  better  than  sitting  here  do- 
ing nothing  at  all. 

Having  something  to  do  once  more  quickened 
Tom's  energies  anew,  and  starting  to  his  foot,  ho 
prepared  to  [)ut  his  plan  into  execution.  First  of 
all,  iu  order  to  carry  out  that  plan,  it  was  necessary 


166 


LOST   IN    THE    FOG. 


fur  him  to  get  a  number  of  blocks  and  boards  of 
dilferent  sizes.  These,  he  knew,  could  easily  be 
i'ound  among  the  drift-wood  on  the  beach.  Over 
there  he  hurried,  and  after  a  moderate  search  lie 
succeeded,  at  lengtli,  in  finding  l)its  of  wood  that 
seemed  suited  to  the  purpose  wdiicli  lie  had  in 
view.  With  these  he  came  back  to  the  boat;  but 
as  there  was  a  large  number  of  them,  he  had  lo 
make  several  journeys  before  the  whole  collection 
was  brought  over. 

Then  he  took  his  pole,  and,  putting  a  block  un- 
der it,  used  it  as  a  lever  to  raise  up  the  boat.  By 
dexterous  management  he  succeeded  in  doing  this, 
and  at  the  same  time  he  ran  a  board  underneath 
the  bow  of  the  boat  as  it  was  sliirhtly  raised.  This 
manccuvre  he  repeated  several  times,  each  time 
raising  his  lever  higher,  by  means  of  a  higher  ful- 
crum, and  thus  constantly  raising  the  bow  of  the 
boat;  wdiile  after  each  elevation  the  bow  was  se- 
cured in  its  new  positit)n  by  running  an  additional 
board  underneath  it,  over  the  other  preceding 
boards.  I>y  carefully  and  perse veringly  pursuing 
this  course,  he  at  length  succeeded  in  raising  tlie 
bow  of  the  boat  about  a  foot  in  the  air.  This  gave 
him  an  ot)portunity  to  examine  it  thoroughly  out^  ide 
as  well  as  inside,  and  to  see  the  whole  extent  of 
the  damage  that  had  been  done. 

It  has  already  been  said  that  the  damage  was 
serious.  Tom's  examination  now  convinced  him 
that  it  was  in   every  respect  as  serious  as  he  had 


\. 


CAN   ANYTHIN(;    lU-:    DONK  ? 


107 


f' 


supposed,  if  not  still  more  so.  Even  if  lie  did 
})osscss  a  hatchet  and  nails,  or  a  whole  box  fnll  of 
tools,  he  doubted  whether  it  would  be  in  his  power 
to  do  anything  whatever  in  the  way  of  rej)airing 
it.  No  less  than  three  of  the  lower  })lanks  uf  the 
bows,  down  to  the  very  keel,  were  beii,ten  in  and 
broken  so  badly  that  they  seemed  actually  crushed 
and  mangled.  It  must  have  been  a  fearful  l)eat- 
ing,  and  pounding,  and  grinding  on  the  rocks 
which  had  caused  this.  The  planks,  though  thus 
broken,  stih  held  together ;  but  it  seemed  to  Tom 
that  with  a  blow  of  his  fist  ho  could  easily  beat  it 
all  in  ;  and  as  he  looked  at  it  ho  could  nc^t  hel[) 
wondering  how  it  had  ha})pened  that  the  woik 
which  the  rocks  had  thus  so  nearly  eflected  had 
not  been  completely  finished.  However,  the  planks 
did  hold  together  yet;  and  now  the  question  was, 
Could  any  thing  be  done  ? 

In  answer  to  this  (question,  Tom  thought  of  the 
old  sail  and  the  coil  of  rope.  Already  he  had  con- 
ceived the  rude  outline  of  a  plan  whereby  the 
entrance  of  the  water  might  be  checked.  The 
plan  was  worth  trying,  and  he  determined  to  set 
about  it  at  once,  and  use  up  the  hours  before  him 
as  long  as  he  could,  without  any  further  delay.  If 
by  any  possibility  ho  could  stop  that  leak,  he  de- 
termined to  start  off  at  the  next  high  tide,  that  very 
night,  and  run  the  risk.  It  was  a  daring,  even 
a  Ibnlhaidy  thought;  but  Tom  was  desperate,  and 
the  only  idea  which  ho  had  was,  to  escape  as  soou  ' 
as  possible. 


168 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


He  now  made  sumo  moiisuremciits,  afli  r  wliich 
he  went  to  the  old  sail,  and  cut  a  piece  from  the 
end  of  it.  This  lie  divided  into  smaller  pieces, 
each  about  a  yard  square.  Each  of  these  pieces 
he  folded  up  in  three  folds,  so  as  to  make  tliern 
about  a  foot  wide  and  eighteen  incites  long.  Oth- 
ers he  folded  into  six  folds,  making  them  about 
half  the  size  of  the  larger  pieces.  All  this  took  up 
much  time,  for  he  measured  and  planned  very  care- 
fully, and  his  calculations  and  measurements  had 
to  be  done  slowly  and  cautiously.  Returning  to 
tb'^  boat  with  these  bits  of  folded  canvas,  he  })ut 
one  of  the  larger  pieces  on  the  inside,  against  the 
bow,  right  over  the  broken  place.  Another  large 
piece  was  placed  carefully  over  tliis,  and  tiien  the 
smaller  pieces  were  laid  against  these.  In  this 
way  he  adjusted  all  the  pieces  of  canvas  in  such 
a  way  as  to  cover  up  the  wliole  place  where  the 
leak  was. 

Then  he  went  over  to  the  drift-wood,  and  spent 
a  long  time  searching  after  some  bits  of  wood.  TTo 
at  length  found  a  half  dozen  pieces  of  board,  about 
a  foot  long,  and  from  six  to  eight  inches  in  widtli. 
He  also  found  some  bits  of  scantling,  and  palings, 
which  were  only  a  foot  or  so  in  length.  All  tliese 
he  brought  back,  and  laid  them  down  on  the  beach 
near  the  boat. 

He  now  proceeded  to  place  these  bits  of  wood 
in  tlie  bows,  in  such  a  way  as  to  keep  the  canvas 
in  a  firm  position.     His  idea  was,  that  the  canvas, 


tom's  ingenuity. 


169 


1 


by  being  pressed  against  the  opening,  might  keep 
out  the  water,  and  the  wood,  by  being  properly  ar- 
ranged, might  keep  the  canvas  secure  in  its  place. 
'J'lie  arrangement  of  the  wood  required  the  greatest 
care.  First  of  all,  he  took  the  smallest  bits,  and 
stood  these  up  against  the  canvas,  so  that  they 
might  corres[)ond  as  nearly  as  possible  with  the 
curve  of  the  bows.  A  few  more  pieces  were  placed 
in  the  hollow  part  of  this  curve,  and  outside  these 
the  larger  pieces  were  placed.  Between  the  out- 
side pieces  and  the  inner  ones  he  thrust  some  of 
the  smallest  pieces  which  he  could  find.  After  thus 
arranging  all  his  boards,  he  found  that  there  lay 
between  the  outside  board  and  the  first  scat  of 
the  boat  a  space  of  about  one  foot.  Selecting  a 
piece  of  wood  of  about  that  length,  he  put  one  end 
against  the  board,  and  the  other  against  the  seat, 
and  pressed  it  into  a  position  where  it  served  to 
keep  the  board  tight  in  its  place.  Then  he  took 
other  pieces  of  about  the  same  length,  and  arranged 
them  in  the  same  way,  so  that,  by  being  fixed  be- 
tween the  board  and  the  seat,  they  might  keep  the 
whole  mass  of  boards  and  canvas  pressed  tight 
against  the  opening  in  the  bows.  After  placing 
as  many  blocks  in  position  as  he  conveniently  could, 
his  next  work  was  to  secure  them  all.  In  order  to 
effect  this,  another  journey  to  the  drift-wood  was 
necessary,  and  another  search.  This  time  he  se- 
lected carefully  a  number  of  sticks,  not  more  than 
half  an  inch  in  thickness,  some  of  them  being  much 


fmu'umim'^Bwrf 


170 


LOST    IN   TUK    FOG. 


tliiiiiior.  rio  f'uuiiil  pieces  of  paling,  and  laths,  and 
shingles  which  suited  his  ideas.  Returning  with 
thoso  to  the  bout,  he  proceeded  to  tiirust  them,  one 
by  one,  into  the  interstices  of  the  boards,  using  a 
stone  to  drive  them  into  their  places. 

At  last  the  work  was  linished  as  far  as  he  could 
accomplish  it,  and  there  remained  nothing  more  to 
be  done.  As  far  as  he  could  see,  by  shaking,  and 
pulling,  and  pushing  at  the  collection  of  sticks  and 
canvas,  it  was  very  firm  and  secure.  Every  stick 
seemed  to  bo  tight,  and  the  pressure  which  they 
maintained  against  the  aperture  was  so  strong  that 
the  wood-work  now  was  forced  out  a  little  distance 
beyond  the  outline  of  the  boat.  He  examined  most 
carefully  all  about  the  bows  on  the  outside,  but 
saw  no  place  which  did  not  seem  to  be  fully  i)ro- 
tected.  Jt  seemed  to  him  now  as  though  that  piled- 
up  canvas  ought  to  resist  the  entrance  of  the  war 
tor,  or,  if  not,  at  least  that  it  ought  not  to  allow  it 
to  enter  so  rapidly  but  that  he  could  easily  keep 
the  boat  baled  out. 

lie  was  not  altogether  confident,  yet  he  was 
hopeful,  and  as  detormiued  as  over  to  make  a 
trial. 


tl 

I 


)i 


i 


PREPARATIONS   To    EMBARK. 


171 


XII. 

Wait'uuj  for  h'Kjh  Water.  — A  Trial  ~  A  new  Dis- 
covery. —  Tokil  Fall  are.  —Down  a<jaln.  —  Over- 
hoard.— A  Stru(j(jle  for  Lfe. 

K)iM\S  work  Wcis  tlius,at  len,t,4,li,  accomplished, 
and  it  remained  now  to  get  the  boat  in  readi- 
ness and  wait.  Slowly  and  carel'ully  he 
raised  the  bow  by  means  of  the  lever,  and  one  by 
one  he  withdrew  the  boards  which  held  it  up.  At 
last  I  lie  boat  lay  on  the  beach,  ready  to  receive  the 
uplilting  arms  of  the  returning  tide  whenever  it 
yhould  make  its  appearance  again.  Tom  saw  with 
satisfaction  that  the  boat  was  about  tlu-ce  yards 
down  below  high-water  mark,  on  the  spot  to  which 
he  had  dragged  it  after  the  failure  of  his  last  ex- 
periment. This,  of  course,  would  be  so  much  in 
his  favor,  for  it  would  thus  be  able  to  float  before 
the  water  should  reach  its  height. 

Pie  had  worked  hard  all  the  afternoon,  and  it 
was  already  dark.  The  tide,  which  had  been  lull- 
ing, had  some  time  ago  reached  its  lowest  point, 
itiid  was  now  returning.  iJetween  him  and  the 
lowest  point  was  a  great  distance,  lor  the   tides 


172 


LOST   IN   THE   FOfi. 


! 


i  li 


here  rise  to  a  porpciidic.'ular  liciglit  uf  over  forty 
feet;  but  Tuiu  knew  tliat  the  time  retiuired  lo 
traverse  the  lung  spuee  that  liere  iiiterveiieil  })e- 
tween  liigli  and  low-water  mark  was  precisely  the 
same  as  if  it  had  only  to  rise  a  lew  ieet. 

He  was  very  hungry,  hut  some  things  jiad  yet 
to  he  done.  Tie  had  to  [)ut  on  hoard  tlie  boat  the 
articles  that  he  had  taken  ashore.  J I  is  matclies 
were  now  (juite  dry,  and  he  put  them  in  his  pocket 
with  a  deep  sense  of  their  value  to  him  in  Iiis 
present  position.  His  clotlies  als(j  were  dry,  and 
these  he  put  on.  The  Hail,  the  coil  of  rope,  and 
the  hox  of  biscuit  were  put  on  board  the  boat. 
Tom  had  still  to  make  his  frugal  repast;  but  this 
was  soon  accomplished,  and  he  felt  again  a  sense 
of  exceeding  thankfulness  at  the  possession  of  the 
box  of  biscuit.  At  length  his  evening  meal  was 
over,  and  by  the  time  that  he  had  finished  it,  it  had 
grown  (luito  dark.  He  now  went  to  the  boat,  and 
tied  up  the  sail  around  the  mast.  Tiiere  was  noth- 
ing to  which  he  could  fasten  the  boat:  but  it  was 
not  necessary,  as  he  was  on  the  watch.  The  water 
continued  smooth,  the  wind  was  from  the  north,  as 
before,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  fog.  Overlu^ad 
tlie  sky  was  free  from  clouds,  and  the  stars  twin- 
kled  pleasantly  to  his  upturned  eyes,  as  if  to  en- 
courage him.  There  was  no  moon,  however,  and 
though  it  was  not  very  dark,  yet  it  was  sufficiently 
so  to  veil  the  nearest  shores  in  gloom,  and  finally  to 
withdraw  them  altogether  from  his  view.     Still  it 


TEDIOUS   WATTTNO. 


173 


Wfis  unt  a  iruittor  of  necessity  that  lie  slioiilcl  soo 
th(3  <)p})u.sito  slK)ros,  for  lie  knew  that  his  chief,  and 
indeed  liis  only  reh'ance  must  be  upon  the  tide;  and 
tliis  would  bear  hiui  in  its  upward  course  on  the 
UKjrrow.  Tlie  nig-ht  was  only  needed  to  float  the 
boat  down  as  far  as  low-water  mark.  '^I'he  })roci*ss 
of  floating  her  would  serve  to  test  the  security  of 
the  fistening's,  and  show  whether  he  could  venture 
to  make  the  attempt. 

For  hours  Tom  waited,  sometimes  seated  in  the 
boat,  at  other  times  walking  along  the  beach  down 
to  the  water.  lie  found  it  diflicult  to  keej)  him- 
self awake,  and  therefore  did  not  venture  to  sit 
down  long".  AVearied  with  Ids  long  work  through 
tlu^  day,  the  necessity  of  constant  exertion  wearied 
him  still  more,  until  at  length  he  could  scarce  draw 
his  legs  after  him.  But  all  things  have  an  end, 
and  so  it  wa.  with  Tom's  weary  watch ;  for  at 
length  the  waters  came  up,  and  touched  the  boat, 
and  Hurrounded  it,  until  at  last,  to  liis  great  joy, 
'^I'om  found  himself  afloat.  ITq  seized  his  stick, 
and  pushed  the  boat  into  deeper  water,  a  few  yards 
off,  with  the  intention  of  keeping  her  at  .about  that 
distance  from  the  shore. 

The  one  thoii^hr  that  was  now  in  his  mind  re- 
ferred exclusively  to  his  work  in  the  boat.  Was 
it  firm  ?  Would  it  hold  ?  Did  it  leak  ?  Tha  boat 
was  floating,  certainly.  ITow  long  would  it  con- 
tinue to  do  so?  For  a  few  minutes  lie  waited  anx- 
iously, as  he  floated  there  in  deep  water,  with  hia 


.'  ''■1 


174 


LOST    IN   TIIK    FOfl. 


oyos  fixed  on  the  work  in  the  bow,  and  iiis  cars  listen- 
ing intently  to  detect  any  sign  of  that  warning,  gur- 
gling sound,  which  had  struck  terror  to  his  heart  on 
his  last  embarkation.  JUit  no  sign  came  ol'  any 
Sound  of  that  sort,  and  he  heard  notiiing  but  the 
g<Mitle  dash  of  the  water  against  tlie  sides  of  the 
boat.  'I'hus  about  live  minutes  passed.  At  the 
end  of  that  time,  he  raised  the  sail,  which  he  had 
laid  along  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  examined 
underneath  it.  The  first  touch  of  his  fingers  at 
the  bottom  lessened  very  largely  the  h()i)e  that 
was  in  him,  and  at  once  chased  away  the  feel- 
ing of  exultation  that  was  rising.  For  there,  in 
the  bottiun  of  the  boiit,  he  felt  as  nnich  as  an 
inch  of  water.  After  the  first  shock,  he  tried  to 
believe  that  it  was  only  the  water  that  was  in  the 
boat  before  ;  and  so,  taking  comfort  in  this  thought, 
he  waited  for  further  developments,  but  at  the 
same  time  took  the  dipper,  so  as  to  be  ready  to 
bale  out  the  water,  and  have  a  struggle  for  it  in 
case  the  worst  should      ')pen. 

Another  minute  assured  him  that  this  was  not 
the  water  which  had  been  in  the  boat  before.  A 
new  supply  was  entering,  and  in  tlie  si)ace  of  that 
short  time  of  wailing  it  had  risen  to  (he  height  of 
another  inch.  T(»m  felt  a  sudden  pang  of  dismay, 
but  his  stout  heart  did  not  ([uail,  nor  did  his  obsti- 
nate resolution  faltc^r  Since  il;  was  the  sea  water 
that  was  coming  in,  he  detcM'mined  to  have  a  light 
with  it  tor  the  possession  of  the  boat.     So  he  set 


^'1 


TOM    CRIKS    WITH    VKXATION. 


175 


to  work  bravely,  and  began  to  bale.  ITe  j)ulle(l  up 
the  sail,  so  as  to  have  plenty  .)i'  elbow-room,  and 
worked  away,  dipping  out  the  water ;  but,  as  ho 
dipped,  he  perceived  that  it  was  gradually  getting 
deeper.  He  di})ped  faster,  but  without  any  visible 
im[)rovcment.  Indeed,  his  efforts  seemed  to  have 
l)ut  very  little  effect  in  retarding  the  entrance  of 
the  water.  It  grew  deeper  and  deo})er.  One  inch 
of  water  soon  deepened  to  two  inches,  and  thence 
io  three.     Soon  after  four  inches  were  felt. 

And  now  the  water  came  in  more  rapidly.  It 
seemed  to  Tom  as  though  it  had  been  delayed  at 
first,  for  a  little  time,  in  finding  an  entrance,  but 
that  now,  after  the  entrance  was  found,  it  came 
pouring  in  with  ever-accelerated  speed.  Tt)m 
struggled  on,  hoping  against  hope,  and  keeping  up 
his  efforts  long  after  they  were  proved  to  be  use- 
less. l>ut  the  water  came  in  faster  and  f  ister,  until 
jit  length  Tom  began  to  see  that  he  nuist  seek  his 
safety  in  another  way.  Flinging  down  his  dipper, 
then,  with  a  cry  of  vexation,  he  started  up,  and, 
s(»izing  his  bit  of  board,  he  looked  around  for  the 
shore. 

lie  had  been  cauiiht  bv  somo  side  current,  and 
had  been  carried  along  in  sucli  a  way  tliat  he  was 
about  a  hun(b*ed  yards  from  the  island,  and  seenuxl 
1o  be  diifting  up  the  bay.  'Vho  dark,  shadowy 
sh(tres  were  much  fiirther  away  than  ho  had  sus- 
pect('(l,  Wliil(»  struggling  to  bale  out  the  boat,  ho 
had   i(>rgotten  how  necessary  iL  was  to  keep  near 


176 


LOST   IN   THE   TOG. 


I 


'I  ,1 


to  the  .sliorc.  He  now  saw  liis  mistake,  and  strove 
to  paddle  the  boat  back  again.  With  such  a  clumsy 
oar  it  is  nut  likely  that  he  could  have  achieved  his 
desire  at  all,  had  the  flood  tide  been  stronger;  but 
now  it  was  about  at  its  licight,  and  would  soon  turn, 
if  it  was  not  turning  already.  The  current,  tliore- 
fure,  was  but  a  weak  one,  and  Tom  found  himself  al»lo 
to  move  slowly  back ;  but  his  progress  was  very 
slow,  and  working  at  such  a  disadvantage  was 
excessively  fatiguing.  At  last  he  saw  that  if  he 
trusted  to  paddling  he  could  never  reach  the  shore. 
In  a  moment  another  idea  suggested  itself;  there 
was  no  time  to  lose,  and  ho  at  once  acted  on  it. 
J)a,rtii)g  forward,  he  loosed  the  sail.  The  wind  was 
still  blowing  from  the  north;  at  once  the  sail  was 
filled,  and,  yielding  to  this  new  jiower,  the  bt)at 
began  to  move  more  rapidly.  Tom  tied  the  sheet 
astern,  and,  seizing  his  paddle,  tried  O  scull  the 
boat,  r.-r  some  minutes  he  kept  up  this  work,  and 
the  lioat  moved  steadily  forward,  nearer  and  still 
nearer,  until  the  land  was  at  length  not  more  than 
thirty  or  forty  yards  off. 

But  by  this  time  the  dan,«^er  had  come  nenror, 
\\\W  th(i  boat  was  already  half  full  of  water.  Tom 
began  to  see  that  it  could  not  float  as  far  as  th(^ 
shore.  What  was  he  to  do?  He  waited  a  litth* 
longer.  Tie  looked  around.  The  boat  was  drawing 
nearer,  yet  soon  it  must  go  down.  To  ease  it,  it 
would  bo  necessMry  to  relieve  it  of  his  own  weight. 
He  did  not  lose  his  presence  of  mind  for  a  moment, 


an 


T 


1 


lit 

rr 


it 
It. 
it. 


"1 


PRESKRVKS    HIS    KI'TIX'TS. 


177 


but  determined  at  once  to  jnnij)  overboard.  In  I'is 
perfect  coohiess  he  tliouglit  of  one  or  two  things 
wliicli  were  of  iiu[)ortanco  to  liini,  and  performed 
tliem  swiftly  and  ])r()mptly.  First  lie  took  the  box 
of  ])iscnit,  and  })lac(Ml  it  on  tlie  heap  of  boards  and 
canvas  in  the  bows,  so  tliat  it  nn'ght  remain  as  long 
as  possible  out  of  renrji  of  the  water.  Then  ho 
t(tok  tlie  card  of  matciies  out  of  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  and  i)ut  tluMu  in  his  hat,  which  ho  replaced 
on  his  head.  To  secure  thus  from  damage  the  two 
necessaries  of  food  and  fire  was  but  the  work  of  a  few 
seconds.  To  tlirow  olf  his  ccvat,  waistcojit,  and  trou- 
sers, and  hang  them  over  the  top  of  the  short  mast, 
was  the  work  of  a  few  seconds  more.  Bv  the  time 
this  had  been  done,  tlie  water  was  nearly  up  to  the 
gunwales.  In  five  sf^r-onds  more  the  boat  would 
have  gone  down  ;  but,  so  well  had  Tom's  work  been 
done,  and  so  promptly,  that  these  five  seconds  were 
saved.  Having  done  what  ho  wished,  ho  let  him- 
self down  into  the  water;  and,  holding  on  by  the 
st(M-n  ol'  the  boat,  he  allowed  himself  to  float  after 
it,  kicking  out  at  the  same  time,  so  as  to  assist, 
rather  than  retard,  its  progress. 

V*y  this  time  the  land  was  not  more  than  twenty 
yards  away.  The  boat  did  not  sink  so  rapidly  now, 
but  kept  afloat  much  better;  still  the  water  rose  to 
a  level  with  the  gunwales,  and  Tom  was  too  much 
rejoiciMl  to  find  that  it  kept  afloat  at  all  to  find  fault 
wi!h  this.  The  Avind  still  blew,  and  the  sail  was 
still   up;  so  that  the  water-logged  vessel  went  on 

12 


178 


LOST   IN   THE   FOO. 


at  a  very  respectable  rate,  until  at  length  half  the 
distance  which  Tom  had  noticed  on  going  over- 
board was  traversed.  The  boat  seemed  to  float 
now,  though  full  of  water,  and  Tom  saw  that  his 
precious  biscuit,  at  any  rate,  would  not  be  very 
nmch  harmed.  Nearer  and  nearer  now  he  came, 
until  at  last,  letting  himself  down,  his  feet  touched 
bottom.  A  cry  of  delight  escaped  him;  and  now,  bra- 
cing himself  firmly  against  the  solid  land  below,  he 
urged  the  boat  on  faster,  until  at  length  her  deep- 
sunk  bows  grated  against  the  gravel  of  the  beach. 

llo  hurried  up  to  the  box  of  biscuit,  and  put 
this  ashore  in  a  safe  place ;  after  which  he  secured 
the  boat  to  a  jagged  rock  on  the  bank.  He  Ibund 
now  that  he  had  come  to  a  diflerent  part  of  the 
beach  altogether,  for  his  boat  was  lying  at  the  spot 
where  the  little  brook  ran  into  the  sea.  Well  was 
it  for  him,  in  that  rash  and  hazardous  experiment, 
that  he  had  floated  off  before  the  tide  was  high. 
It  had  led  to  his  drifting  up  the  bay,  instead  of 
down,  and  by  a  weak  current,  instead  of  a  strong- 
one.  The  wind  had  thus  brought  him  back.  ITad 
it  been  full  tide,  he  would  have  drifted  out  fntui 
the  sliore,  and  then  have  been  carried  down  the 
bay  by  the  lidling  water  to  swift  and  sure  destruc- 
tion. 

Tom  now  took  off  his  wet  shirt,  and  put  on  the 
dry  clotiies  which  he  had  so  prudently  hung  on  the 
top  of  tlie  mast.  IFe  jKn'oeived  that  he  had  not  a 
very  pleasant  lookout  for  tlie  night,  for  the   sn'n 


li  ,1 


Bi 


AN  evp:ntpul  day 


179 


I 


m 


which  he  had  formerly  used  to  envelop  himself  witli 
was  now  completely  saturated.  It  was  also  too  dark 
to  go  to  the  woods  in  search  of  ferns  or  mosses  on 
which  to  sleep.  However,  the  nig-ht  was  a  pleasant 
one,  and  the  grass  around  wunid  not  be  so  had  a 
res(ing-j)lace  as  he  had  been  I'orced  to  use  while 
di'irting  in  the  boat.  Tie  had  now  become  aocus- 
tomed  to  hardsiii])  by  bitter  experience,  and  so  he 
looked  I'orward  to  the  night  without  care. 

The  day  had  been  an  event! ul  one,  indeed,  for 
ln"m,  and  his  last  adventuie  had  been  full  of  i)eril, 
from  which  he  had  been  most  wonderi'ullv  rescued. 

These  thoughts  were  in  his  mind,  and  he  did  not 
fjiil  to  oiler  up  prayei-s  of  iKiartlcil  giatitude  to 
that  good  and  merciful  Px'ing  who  had  thus  far  so 
wonderfully  preserved  hiiu.  With  such  feelings  in 
his  heart,  he  sought  out  a  slccping-{)!ace,  and  after 
some  search  he  found  a  mossy  knoll.  Seating  him- 
Bcir  here,  he  reclined  his  back  against  it,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  worn-out  boy  was  buried  in  a  deep 
sleep. 

lie  slept  until  late  on  the  following  day,  and  on 
waking  looked  around  to  see  if  thei'e  were  any 
sails  in  view.  None  were  visible.  Tiie  tide  was 
about  half  way  uj),  and  the  wide  waters  spread  be- 
fore him  without  any  vessel  in  sight.  lie  then 
began  his  preparations  for  the  day.  He  hung  his 
shirt  upon  a  bush,  and  spread  out  the  w«.t  sail  on 
the  grass.  An  examination  of  the  biscmit  shewed 
him  that  they  had  scarcely  been  injured  at  all,  the 


IftO 


LOST    IN   THE   F0(7. 


Witter  liaviiig  poiietviitnd  only  tlio  lower  part  of  tlio 
liox.  IFo  roinovcd  tlio  l(»W(»r  layer  of  biscuit,  and 
spreml  them  out  on  a  roek  in  the  sun  to  dry.  After 
this  he  l)ri'akfast(3d,  and  wandered  ahont  for  a  time. 
Ifo  tluui  took  a  swim,  and  feltmueli  refreshed.  \)y 
till!  linu!  thiit  his  swim  was  over,  he  found  that  tlu^ 
hot  sun  had  dric^l  his  shirt,  so  that  ho  eould  onec^ 
more  assume  that  very  imnortnnt  article  of  clot  hi ii!*'. 

Tlie  sun  eMml)od  high  towards  the  zenith,  and  the 
tide  ciime  up  higher,  as  I'om  sat  there  alone  on  his 
(lesiM't  island,  looking  out  Ujxtu  the  sea.  Tlie  hoat 
from  which  ho  had  hoped  so  much  had  })roved  false 
to  those  ;L.)pes,  and  all  the  lahoi-s  of  the  previous 
day  had  [irovecl  useless.  IFis  attempt  to  escape  had 
neaily  resulted  in  his  destru('tion.  lie  had  leaiMUMl 
from  Ihat  ex])eriment  that  no  efforts  of  his  could 
now  ellect  his  rescue.  11(5  had  donc^  thc^  very  best 
he  could,  and  it  would  not  be  possible  for  him, 
with  his  present  resimrccs,  to  contrive  anything 
better  than  that  which  ha<l  so  miserably  failed.  If 
he  could  only  procure  some  tar,  he  nn"ght  then 
stoj)  »ip  tlie  interstices  ;  but  as  it  was,  nolhing  (tf 
his  construction  would  avail  to  kee[)  back  tlie 
treacherous  entrance  of  th(i  water.  It  scMuned 
now  to  him  that  his  stay  on  tlui  island  was  des- 
tined to  be  ])rolong(Ml  to  a  much  greater  extent 
than  he  had  first  thought  of,  and  tlun'o  did  not 
seem  any  lougei-  a  ho})e  of  saving  himself  by  his 
own  exertions. 

Alone  on  a  desert  island  ! 


1 


ALUNK    ON    A    DESKIJT    ISLAND! 


181 


It  was  a  (li'oadrul  fact  which  now  lincod  ItscII' 
iiioro  and  nn)rc  upon  'I'oni's  mind,  until  at  length 
lie  could  think  of  nothinLi"  else.  Ilillicito  ho  Iiad 
I'ou^ht  oil'  the  idea  whenever  it  presented  it  sell", 
and  so  hn\\^  as  he  had  heen  ahle  to  in(hil,^e  in  any 
lio|)e  ol'  freeing'  hiinseli'  by  his  own  exertions,  he 
ju'evented  hiniself  IVoni  sinkin^i;'  into  (he  i^Iooni  of 
uder  despair.  Hut  now  he  could  no  limber  sa\e 
himself  from  that  <j;loom,  and  the  thought  grew 
darker  and  (hearier  before  him  —  the  one  fact  oi" 
his  j)resent  situation. 

Alone  on  a  desert  island  ! 

A  very  interesting  thing  to  read  about,  no  doubt ; 
an<l  Tom,  like  all  boys,  had  revelled  in  the  portray- 
als of  such  a  situation  which  he  had  encountered 
in  his  reading.  No  one  had  entered  with  more  zest 
than  he  into  the  })ag(js  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  no 
one  had  enjoyed  moi'c  than  he  the  talks  which  ])oys 
love  U)  have  about  their  possible  doings  under  such 
circumstances.  l>ut  now,  to  l»e  here,  and  (ind  him- 
self in  such  a  ]»lace,  —  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  hard,  steiMi,  dismal  fact, — was  another  thing 
ahogether.  What  oppressed  him  most  was  not  the 
hardships  of  his  position.  These  he  could  have 
wiihstood  if  there  had  been  nothing  worse,  'i'he 
Worst  part  of  his  present  life  was  its  solitude.  If 
Hart  had  bi'cn  here  with  him,  or  Bruce,  or  Arthur, 
or  Phil,  Ol-  Pat.  how  dilferent  it  W(»ul(l  have  been! 
Even  old  Solomon  would  have  enabled  him  to  pass 
the  time  contentedly.  IJut  to  be  alone,  —  all  alone, 
—  without  a  soul  to  speak  to,  —  that  was  terrible. 


n 


!   I 


182 


LOST    IN   THIO    FOr.. 


Tom  soon  found  tlial  tlio  veiy  way  to  dooiK'n  liis 
misery  was  to  sit  still  and  hrood  over  it.  IFo  was 
not  inclined  to  give  way  to  trouble.  It  lias  already 
been  seen  that  lie  was  a  boy  of  obstinate  courage, 
resolute  will,  and  invincible  determination.  Jle 
was  capable  of  struggling  to  the  last  against  any 
adversity ;  and  even  if  he  had  to  lose,  he  knew 
how  to  lose  without  sinking  into  complete  despaii-. 
These  moods  of  depression,  or  even  of  despair, 
whicli  now  and  then  did  come,  v/ere  not  perma- 
nent. In  time  he  shook  them  olf,  and  looked  about 
for  some  new  way  of  carrying  on  the  struggle  with 
evil  fortune. 

Ho  now  he  shook  off  this  fit  of  depression,  and 
starting  up  he  determined  not  to  sit  idle  any  longer. 

"  1  won't  stand  it,"  he  nuittered.  "  There's  lots 
of  things  to  be  seen,  and  to  be  done.  And  first 
of  all  I've  got  to  explore  this  island.  Come,  Tom, 
my  boy;  cheer  up,  old  fellow.  You've  [)retended 
to  admire  Robinson  Crusoe  ;  act  up  to  your  pro- 
fession. And  first  of  all,  my  boy,  you've  got  to 
explore  Juan  Fernandez." 

The  sound  of  his  own  voice  had  the  elTeft  of 
encouraging  and  inspiriting  him,  wliile  the  pui'pose 
which  he  thus  assigned  to  himself  was  sullicient 
to  awaken  his  prostrated  energies.  IMiere  was 
something  in  the  plan  which  roused  all  his  curi- 
osity, and  turned  his  thoughts  and  feelings  into  a 
totally  new  direction.  No  sooner,  then,  had  this 
tliought  occurred  to  him,  than  he  at  once  set  out 
to  put  it  into  execution. 


liVLi> 


_  i  J 


AN   EXPLOUATION. 


183 


ii 


First  of  all  he  took  one  parting  look  at  the  scctio 
around  him.  The  sun  had  now  passed  its  nioridiari, 
aud  it  seemed  to  be  one  o'clock  or  after.  The  tide 
was  high.  The  boat,  which  had  at  first  floated, 
was  now  nearly  full  of  water.  Tom  threw  a  mel- 
ancholy glance  at  this  fresh  proof  of  the  utter  fu- 
tility of  all  his  labor,  and  then  examined  the  fas- 
tenings, so  that  it  might  not  drift  away  during  his 
absence.  Then  he  searched  among  the  drift-wood 
until  he  found  a  stout  stick  to  assist  him  in  climb- 
ing, and  to  serve  as  a  companion  in  his  walk,  after 
which  he  started. 

The  sun  was  bright,  but  over  the  sky  some 
clouds  were  gathering,  and  the  opposite  shores 
seemed  to  have  grown  darker  than  they  were  a 
few  hours  ago,  having  assumed  a  hue  like  tdive 
green.  The  wind  had  also  died  away,  and  the 
water  was  as  smooth  as  glass. 


184 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


XIII. 

JVliere\s  Solomon  ?  —  Jn  anxious  Search.  —  17ie 
Beach.  —  The  cavernous  (JIiJI'<s.  —  l/j)  the  Prcci- 
2)ice.  —  Alomj  the  Shore.  —  Back  for  Boats. 

^ITE  luss  of  Solomon  had  filled  tlio  boyw  with 
anxiety,  and  oven  Captain  Corbet  sliared  in 
tlio  common  feeling.  He  Jiad  prel'erred  to 
set  out,  as  he  said,  witli  a  coil  oi'  rope;  hut  the 
sight  of  this  seemed  to  make  Solomon's  fate  ai)pear 
darker,  and  looked  as  though  he  might  have  I'allcHi 
over  a  precipice,  or  into  a  deep  pool  of  watei*. 
They  all  knew  that  a  serious  accident  Avas  not 
at  all  improbable.  They  had  seen  the  lofty  and 
rugged  clids  that  lined  the  bay  shore,  and  knew 
that  the  rising  waters,  as  they  dashed  over  them, 
might  form  the  grave  of  a  man  I'ar  younger  and 
more  active  than  the  aged  Solomon.  He  was  weak 
and  rheumatic ;  he  was  also  timid  and  easily  con- 
i'used.  If  the  water  had  overtaken  him  anywhere, 
he  might  easily  fall  a  prey.  In  his  efforts  to  es- 
cape, ho  would  soon  become  so  terrified  that  his 
limbs  would  be  paralyzed.  lie  might  then  stumble 
over  the  rocks,  and  l)reak  some  of  his  bones,  or  lie 


I 


LOOKING    FOR   SOLOMON. 


185 


IIIG 

'rcci- 


mip;l»t  be  intrai)pcd  in  some  rocesH  of  the  clifls, 
fVoiii  wliicli  es(;ape  might  ho  impossihle  witlioiit 
external  lielp. 

Full  of  thouglits  like  tliese,  tlie  Itoys  went  on, 
wilh  ('ii])tain  Corhet,  iq)  tlirough  the  viMago,  K)ok- 
ing  carefully  around  as  they  went  on,  and  making 
in([uiries  of  every  (jne  whom  tliey  met.  No  one, 
however,  could  give  them  any  information.  At  last 
they  reached  the  end  of  the  village.  Ileic*,  on  the 
left,  there  arose  a  high  hill.  The  road  wound  round 
this,  and  descended  into  a  valley,  through  which  a 
stream  nin  to  the  hay.  In  this  valley  there  was  a 
ship-yard,  m  here  the  half-finished  fahiic  of  a  large 
ship  stood  l>elore  them,  and  from  which  the  rattle 
of  a  hundred  axes  rose  into  the  air.  The  valley 
itself  was  a  beautiful  place,  running  up  among 
steep  hills,  till  it  was  lost  to  view  among  a  mass  of 
evergreen  trees  and  rich  foliag(\  IJelow  the  ship- 
yard was  a  cove  of  no  very  great  depth,  but  of  ex- 
treme beauty.  Beyond  this  was  a  broad  beach, 
which,  at  the  farthest  end,  was  bounded  by  the 
})rojecting  headland  before  alluded  to.  The  head- 
land was  a  precipitous  cliff  of  red  sandstone, 
crowned  at  the  summit  with  a  fringe  of  forest  trees, 
while  at  its  base  were  two  or  three  hollow  caveins, 
worn  into  the  solid  rock  by  the  action  of  the  surf. 
One  uf  these  was  about  thirty  feet  in  height  at  its 
mouth,  and  ran  back  for  sixty  or  seventy  feet,  nar- 
rowing all  the  way,  like  a  funnel,  from  its  entrance 
to  its  farthest  extremity. 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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1.8 


U    lii  1.6 


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V 


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/A 


V 


«^ 


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^. . 


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LsS- 


W      '^T 


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h 


186 


LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 


The  tide  was  now  noLirr'  at  its  liciglit,  and 
progress  down  the  beacli  and  along  tlie  clifF  was 
impossible.  The  caves  were  cut  ofT  also,  and  the 
water  penetrated  them  for  some  distance.  At  low 
tide  one  could  easily  walk  down  to  the  extreme 
point  of  tlie  headland,  and  ronnding  this,  he  would 
find  it  possible  to  go  along  in  front  of  the  clills  for 
an  immense  distan(X\,  either  by  walking  along  the 
rough  beacli  at  their  foot,  or,  if  the  water  should 
rise  again,  by  going  along  rocky  shelves,  which 
projected  for  miles  from  the  surface  of  the  clilF. 

Keaching  the  head  of  the  beach.  Captain  Corbet 
paused,  and  looked  around. 

"  Before  goin  any  further,''  said  he,  "  we'd  Itetter 
ask  the  folks  at  this  ship-yard.  It  ain't  possible  to 
tell  whether  he's  gone  by  the  beach  or  not.  He 
may  have  gone  up  the  valley." 

'^  0,"  said  J5art,  dolefully,  "  he  must  have  gone 
by  the  beach." 

''  I  ray  the  r  think  I'll  ask,  at  any  rate,"  said  the 
captain. 

So  saying,  ho  walked  up  toward;:^  a  house  that  was 
not  far  off,  and  accosted  some  men  who  were  stand- 
ing there.  On  hearing  his  question,  tlu^y  were 
silent  for  a  few  moments ;  and  at  last  one  of  them 
recollected  seeing  an  aged  colored  man  passing  by 
early  in  the  morning.  He  had  a  basket  on  his  arm, 
and  in  every  way  corresponded  to  the  description 
of  St)lomon.     He  was  on  his  way  up  tho  shore. 

*'  Did  lie  go  down  to  the  ])int,"  asked  Captain 
Corbet,  ''  or  up  to  the  top  of  tho  cliff?" 


A    HAZARDOUS    ROUTE. 


187 


eight 


The  man  couldn't  say  for  certain;  but  as  far  as 
lie  coukl  recollect,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  went 
down  t(3  the  pint. 

''  About  what  time  ?  "  , 

"  Between  eight  and  nine  o'clock  —  in  fact,  about 
-  not  much  later." 

''  Did  he  speak  to  any  one  here  ?  " 

''No;  he  walked  past  without  stoppin.  An  do 
you  say  he  ain't  got  back  ?  " 

''  Not  yet." 

''  Wal,"  said  the  man,  "  for  an  old  feller,  an  a  feller 
Avliat  don't  know  the  country  hereabouts,  he's  gone 
on  a  dangerous  journey ;  an  ef  he's  ti'ied  to  get 
back,  he's  found  it  a  pooty  hard  road  to  travel." 

''  Isn't  there  any  chance  of  his  gettin  back  by 
the  cliir?" 

''  Not  with  the  water  risin  onto  his  path." 

"  Is  there  any  way  of  gettin  up  to  the  to, .  of  the 
cliir?" 

"  Wal,  fur  a  active  young  feller  it  wouldn't  be 
hard,  but  for  a  po.e  old  critter  like  that  tliar,  it 
couldn't  be  done  —  no  how." 

"  Wal,  boys,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  sorrowfully, 
"  I  guess  we'd  better  get  on,  an  not  lose  any  more 
time." 

'i'liey  walked  away  In  silence  for  some  time,  until 
at  last  they  readied  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  A  path 
here  ran  up  in  a  winding  direction  so  as  to  reach 
the  top. 

"  It  seems  too  bad,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  •'  not  to 


188 


LOST   IN   THE    ¥00. 


bo  <il)le  to  got  to  tlio  boacli.  I  wisli  I'd  coinc  i^ 
tlio  boat.     Wliat  a  fix)!  I  was  not  to  think  of  it ! '' 

"  0,  1  daro  say  the  top  of  tlio  oliir  will  do,"  said 
I]ruco. 

"  Wal,  it'll  liav^o  to  do.  At  any  rate  I've  got  the 
kilo  of  ropo.'' 

"  Wo  shall  bo  abl(5  to  sco  him  Iroiii  the  top  just 
as  woll,  and  porhap^  l)ottor.'' 

*' Wal,  1  liopo  so;  but  who'll  bo  a  lootlo  too  far 
above  hiui  for  my  laiicy,  —  ony  wc  can  riso  tho 
rope,  1  s'poso.     Can  any  of  you  youngsters  climb  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,"  said  Bart,*'-  all  of  us." 

"  What  kind  of  heads  lia\o  you  got  —  stiddy  ?" 

"  Yes,  good  enough,"  said  Bruce.  "  I'll  engage 
to  go  anywhere  that  1  can  lind  a  foothold;  and 
here's  J>art,  that'll  go  certainly  as  I'ar,  rjid  perhaps 
farther.  And  here's  Phil,  tliat  can  do  his  share. 
As  for  Pat,  he  can  boat  us  all ;  he  can  travel  like 
a  fly,  upside  down,  or  in  any  direction." 

"  Wal,  Pm  glad  to  hear  that,  boys,  for  it's  likely 
you'll  bo  wanted  to  do  some  climbin  afore  we  got 
back.  I  used  to  do  somethin  in  that  way;  but 
since  I've  growed  old,  an  rheumatic,  Pve  got  kino 
o'  out  o'  tho  way  of  it,  an  don't  scacely  feel  socli 
confidence  in  myself  as  I  used  to  oust.  But  come, 
we  mustn't  be  waitin  here  all  day.  ' 

At  this  they  started  up  the  path,  and  soon  reached 
tho  top  of  tho  cliff. 

Arriving  hero,  they  found  themselves  in  a  culti- 
vated meadow,  passing  through  which  they  reached 


A    VIEW    FROM   THE   CLTPP,  189 

a  pasture  field.  After  a  walk  of  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile,  they  came  to  the  cliff  that  ran  along  tlie 
shore  of  the  bay,  and  on  reaching  this,  the  whole 
1»;iy  burst  upon  tlieir  view. 

It  was  still  a  beautiful  day;  the  sun  was  shining 
brilbantly,  and  liis  rays  were  reflected  in  a  path  of 
dazzliim'  lustre  from  tlie  face  of  the  sea.  The  wind 
was  fresh,  and  the  little  waves  tossed  up  their 
fieads  ticross  where  the  sunlight  fell,  flashing  back 
the  rays  of  the  sun  in  perpetually  changing  light, 
and  presenting  to  the  eye  tlie  appearance  of  in- 
numerable dazzling  stars.  Far  away  rose  the 
Nova  Scotia  shore  as  they  had  seen  it  in  tlie  morn- 
ing, wliihi  up  the  bay,  in  tlic  distance,  abrupt,  dark, 
Mild  precipitous,  arose  tlie  solitary  He  Haute. 

Beneath  them  tlie  waters  of  the  bay  foamed  and 
splashed;  and  though  there  was  not  much  surf, yet 
the  waters  came  rolling  among  the  rocks,  seething 
and  boiling,  and  extending  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  uj)  and  down,  in  a  long  line  of  foam. 

Reaching  the  edge,  they  all  looked  down.  At 
the  bottom  there  were  visible  the  heads  of  black 
rocks,  which  arose  above  the  waves  at  times,  but 
which,  however,  at  intervals,  were  covered  with 
the  rolling  waters  that  tossed  around  them  in  foam 
and  spray.  Nearer  and  higher  up  there  were 
rocks  which  projected  like  shelves  from  the  face 
of  the  cliff,  and  seemed  capable  of  affording  a  foot- 
hold to  any  climber;  but  their  projection  served 
also  to  conceal  from  view  what  lay  immediately 
beneath. 


100 


LOST   IN   THK   FOG. 


Along  the  wliolo  bcacli,  however,  up  find  down, 
there  appeared  no  sign  of  liuman  lii'e.  Anxiously 
they  looked,  hoping  to  see  some  human  forrii,  in 
some  part  of  that  long  line  of  rock ;  but  none  was 
visible,  and  they  look    ^  at  one  another  in  silence. 

"  Wal,  he  don't  turn  u})  yet ;  that's  clar,  "  said  Cap- 
tain (yorbet. 

'^  VVe  can  see  a  great  deal  from  here,  to  >,"  said 
Bart,  in  a  desi)ondent  tone. 

"  Ay,  an  that's  jest  what  makes  the  wust  of  it. 
I  thought  that  one  look  from  a  conunandin  pint 
would  reveal  the  wanderer  to  our  eyes." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  crouching  in  among  the  rocks 
down  there." 

"  Wal,  I  raytlier  think  he'd  manage  to  git  up  a 
leetlc  further  out  of  the  reach  of  the  surf  than  all 
that." 

"  He  may  be  farther  on." 

"  True  ;  an  I  dare  say  he  is,  too." 

"  There  don't  seem  to  be  any  place  below  these 
rocks,  where  he  would  be  likely  to  be." 

"No;  I  think  that  jest  here  he  could  dim))  up, 
as  fur  as  that  thar  shelf,  certain.  He  may  be  old  an 
rheumatic,  but  he's  able  enough  to  climb  that  fur." 

"  1  don't  think  an^^thing  could  have  hapi)ened  to 
him  here,  or  we  should  see  some  signs  of  him." 

"  (;Ourse  we  would  —  we'd  see  his  remains  — 
we'd  sec  his  basket,  or  his  hat,  floatin  and  driftin 
about.  l>ut  thar's  not  a  basket  or  a  hat  anywhar 
to  be  seen." 


THE   SEAHCII    fOXTlNlTES. 


101 


jl)  up, 

1)1(1  an 

fur." 

led  to 


'? 


Ins  — 
Irif'tin 
Iwhar 


4 


"  Tho  cliff  is  long'lioro,  and  runs  in  so  from  tliat 
point,  tliat  if  he  went  np  any  distance,  it  would  be 
easy  for  him  to  be  cau|i2^1h  by  the  rising  tide." 

"  Course  it  would.  0,  yes,  course.  That's  the 
very  thing"  that  struck  me.  It's  very  dangerous  for 
an  ole  inexperienced  man.  But  come,  we  mustn't 
slaiid  talkin,  we  must  hurry  on,  or  we  may  as  well 
go  back  agin,  at  oust." 

Starting  forward,  they  walked  on  for  some  time 
in  silence.  For  about  a  hundred  yards  tliey  were 
able  to  keep  close  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  so  as  to 
look  over:  but  after  that  they  encountered  a  dense 
aider  thicket.  In  order  to  traverse  this,  they  had 
to  go  farther  inland,  where  there  was  some  sort  of 
an  opening.  There  they  came  to  a  wood  wliere  the 
underbrush  was  thick,  and  the  walking  difficult. 
I'his  they  traversed,  and  at  length  worked  their 
way  once  more  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Looking 
down  here,  they  found  the  scene  very  much  like 
what  it  had  been  fartlicr  back.  The  waves  were 
dashing  beneath  them  among  rocks  whose  black 
crests  were  at  times  visil)le  among  the  foam,  while 
from  the  cliffs  there  were  the  same  projecting 
shelves  which  they  had  noticed  before. 

"  See  there  !  "  cried  Bart,  pointing  to  a  place  be- 
hind them.  "  Do  you  see  how  the  cliff  seems  to  go 
in  there — just  where  the  alder  bushes  grow? 
That  looks  like  a  place  wliere  a  man  might  bo 
caught.     1  wonder  if  ho  isn't  there." 

"  Can't  we  go  and  see  ?  " 


I 


^- 


102 


r.OST  IN  THE   Fon. 


''  J  <lon't  tliink  3^011  can  git  tliar." 

''  0,  it  isn't  far/'  said  Bart.  "I'll  run  back  and 
look  down.  Tlio  rest  of  you  liad  bettor  go  on  ; 
I'll  join  you  soon." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Bruce. 

"Very  well." 

Biuce  and  Bart  then  set  out,  and  forced  tlioir 
way  til  rough  the  dense  alder  bushes,  until  at 
lengtli  they  found  themselves  near  tlic  place. 
Here  there  was  a  chasm  in  the  line  of  cliff,  reach- 
ing from  the  top  to  the  bottom.  The  sides  were 
precipitous,  and  the}-^  could  see  perfectly  well  all 
the  way  down.  At  the  bottom  the  water  was  roll- 
ing and  tossing ;  and  this,  together  with  the  pre- 
ci])it()us  cliffs,  showed  them  plainly  that  no  cme 
could  have  found  shelter  here. 

Sadly  and  silently  they  returned,  and  rejoined 
the  others,  who  had  been  walking  along  in  ad- 
vance. 

"  Wal  ?  "  said  Captain  Corbet,  interrogatively. 

Bart  shook  his  head. 

They  then  walked  on  for  some  time  in  silence. 

"  Come,"  said  Captain  Corbet;  "  we've  been  makin 
one  mistake  ever  sence  we  started." 

"What's  that?" 

"  We've  kep  altogether  too  still.  How  do  wo 
know  but  we've  passed  him  somewhar  along  down 
thar.     We  can't  see  behind  all  them  corners." 

"  Let's  shout  now  —  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"  Yes ;  that's  it ;  yell  like  all  possessed." 


fi    ,„t 


THE   BOYS   SHOUT. 


193 


Tlio  cries  of  tlic  boys  now  burst  fortb  in  sbrill 
screams  and  yells,  which  were  echoed  among  the 
^V()ods  and  rocks  around. 

•'  Now,"  cried  Captain  Corbet,  "  all  together  !  " 

The  boys  shouted  all  together. 

"That'll  fetch  him,"  said  the  captain,  "  ef  any- 
thin  doos.  It's  a  pity  we  didn't  think  of  this  afore. 
What  an  ole  fool  I  must  ha  ben  to  forgit  that !  " 

The  boys  now  walked  on  shouting,  and  scream- 
ing, and  yelling  incessantly,  and  waiting,  from  time 
to  time,  to  listen  for  an  answer. 

But  no  answer  came. 

At  times  Captain  Corbet's  voice  sounded  forth. 
His  cry  was  a  very  peculiar  one.  It  was  high  pitched, 
shrill,  and  penetrating,  and  seemed  as  though  it 
ought  to  be  heard  for  miles.  But  the  united  voices 
of  the  boys,  and  the  far-piercing  yell  of  the  cap- 
tain, all  sounded  equally  in  vain.  No  response 
came,  and  at  last,  after  standing  still  and  listening 
for  a  longer  time  than  usual,  they  all  looked  de- 
spond ingly  at  one  another,  as  though  each  were 
Avaiting  for  the  other  to  suggest  some  new  plan  of 
action. 

Captain  Corbet  stood  and  looked  musingly  out 
upon  the  sea,  as  though  the  sight  of  the  rolling 
waters  assisted  his  meditations.  It  was  some  time 
before  he  spoke. 

"  T  tell  you  what  it  is,  boys,"  said  he  at  last. 
"  We've  ben  makin  another  mistake." 

''  How  so  ?  "       . 

13 


104 


LOST   IN   THE   FOO. 


"  We've  g;ono  to  work  wrong." 

"Well,  wliat  can  we  do  now?" 

"  Wal,  fiist  an  foremos^t,  T  ninve  we  go  back  on 
our  tracks." 

"Go  back?" 

"  Yas." 

"Why?" 

"  Wal,  you  sec,  one  thing,  — Solomon  can't  hev 
('(liiic  i'urthcr  than  this  b}'  no  ])ossibility,  onless  ho 
started  straight  off  to  walk  all  the  way  up  the  bay 
agin,  back  to  Petticoat  Jack  by  the  shore  route, — 
an  as  that's  too  rough  a  route  for  an  ole  man,  why, 
I  calc'late  it's  imt  to  be  thought  of.  Ef,  on  the  con- 
trairy,  he  only  kern  out  to  hunt  for  fish,  'tain't  lik(^ly 
he  come  as  fur  as  this,  an  in  my  pinion  he  didn't 
come  nigh  as  fur.  You  see  we're  a  good  piece  on, 
and  Solomon  wouldn't  hev  come  so  fur  if  he'd  cal'- 
latiul  to  get  back  to  the  scliewner.  What  d'ye  say 
to  that?" 

"  I'ye  thought  of  that  already,"  said  Bnu^e,  sad- 
ly. "  We'ye  certainly  gone  as  far  as  he  could  pos- 
sibly Iwive  gone." 

"  Terrew,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  solemnly, 

"  r^ut  what  can  we  do  now  ?  "  asked  Bart. 

"  Fust  of  all,  go  back." 

"  What!  giye  him  up?" 

"  T  didn't  say  that.  I  said  to  go  back,  an  keej)  a 
good  lookout  along  the  shore." 

"  But  we've  done  that  already." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  then  we  didn't  begin  to  yell 


SUh 


CAPTAIN  conui-yr's  mistakk. 


lOf) 


/; 


go  back  on 


I  can't  hev 

,  ouless  lio 

11})  tlio  bay 

e  route,  — 

mail,  wliy, 

111  tlie  coii- 

aiii't  likolv 

1  lie  di(bi't 

I  piece  on, 

'  heVl  cal'- 

t  d'ye  say 

• 

ni(3e,  sad- 
coiild  pus- 

'Iv, 
irt. 


fin  k 


oej)  a 


in  to  yell 


till  quite  lately,  whereas  we'd  ouglit  to  licv  yelled 
from  the  time  of  fust  startin.  Now,  I  think  ef  we 
went  back  yellin  all  the  way,  we'd  have  a  chanre 
of  turnin  him  up  soinewliar  bark  thar  wliar  we  fust 
•  •Mine  in  sit;-]it  of  the  cliif.  Very  likelv,  if  lie  ain't 
iilready  drownded,  he's  a  twisted  himself  up  in 
sniiK!  holler  in  the  cliff  back  thar.  He  couldn't 
Iicv  gf>t  this  fur,  certain, —  unless  he'd  ben  a  run- 
nin  away." 

All  this  seemed  so  certain  to  the  boys  that  tlu^y 
had  nothing  to  say  in  opposition  to  it.  Tu  (act,  as 
IJruce  said,  they  had  already  gone  as  far  as  Sol- 
onion  could  possibly  have  gone,  and  this  thought 
had  occurred  to  them  .all.  (^ijitain  Corlx^t's  prop- 
osition, therefore,  seemed  to  them  the  only  coursi^ 
to  follow.    So  they  all  turned  and  went  back  again. 

'^  What  I  was  a  goin  to  say,"  remarked  Captain 
Corbet,  after  walking  a  few  ])aces,  —  "what  I  was 
a  goin  to  say  was  this.  The. mistake  I  made  was 
in  not  gettiii  a  boat." 

"  A  boat?  Why  we've  traced  the  coast  from  the 
cliir  well  enoup-h — haven't  we?  " 

"  No,  not  well  enough.  We'd  ought  to  have 
planned  this  hero  exyieditioii  more  k(n*fully.  It 
wan't  enough  to  go  along  the  top  of  the  cliff  this 
here  way.  You  see,  we've  not  been  able  to  take 
ill  the  lower  part  of  the  cliff  underneath.  We'd 
on<;ht  to  hev  got  a  boat.  Some  of  us  could  hcv 
goiK^  along  the  cliff,  jest  as  we  hey  ben  doin,  and 
tlie  others   could  have  pulled  aloi^'  the  shore   an 


100 


LOST   IN   THE   F0(;. 


^ 


kop  lip  a  Kliarp  lookout  tliat  way.  "We've  lost 
any  (luantity  o'  time  that  way,  but  tliat's  no  reason 
wliy  wo  sliould  lose  any  more;  so  I  mnve  that 
some  of  us  g-o  back,  right  straiglit  ofl',  an  get  a 
1)oat  at  tlie  ship-yard,  an  come  l)a('k.  I'll  go,  iniless 
some  o'  youns  think  yourselfes  sinnrter,  which 
aiti't  onlikely." 

"  0,  you  can't  run,  captain,"  said  l>art.  '^  Bruce 
and  1  will  go,  and  we'll  run  all  the  way." 

"  WmI,  that's  the  ycvy  best  thing  that  yon  could 
do.  You're  both  young,  an  actyvc.  As  for  me, 
my  days  of  youth  an  actyvity  air  over,  an  I'm  in 
the  sere  an  yaller  leaf,  with  spells  o'  rheumatics. 
So  you  start  off  as  cpiick  as  your  legs  can  carry 
you,  an  ef  you  run  all  the  way,  so  much  the  better." 

The  boys  started  off  at  this,  and  going  on  the 
lull  run,  they  hurried,  as  fast  as  possible,  back  over 
the  patii  they  had  traversed,  and  through  the  woods, 
and  over  the  fields,  and  down  the  cliff  towards  the 
si  lip-yard. 

Phil  and  Pat,  however,  remained  with  Captain 
Corbet ;  and  these  three  walked  back  along  the 
edge  of  the  cliff,  still  looking  down  carefully  for 
signs  of  Solomon,  and  keeping  up  constantly  their 
loud,  shrill  cries. 

Thus  they  walked  back,  till,  at  length,  they 
reached  the  place  where  the  alders  were  growing. 
Here  they  were  compelled  to  make  a  detour  as  be- 
fore, after  which  they  returned  to  the  cliff,  and 
walked  along,  shouting  and  yelling  as  when  they 
came. 


A    NEW    START. 


107 


XIV. 


Back  cKja'ui.  —  Calls  and  Cries.  —  Captain  CorheVs 
Yell.  ~  A  siynijteenl  Sign.  —  The  old  Hat.  —  The 
return  Cry.  —  The  Boat  rounds  the  Point. 

>|JaPTAIN  CORBET,  with  Phil  and  i^lt,  walked 
^^  along  the  top  of  tli(3  clill' in  this  way,  narrow- 

T^  \y  .scrutinizing  the  rocks  l)elow,  and  calling 
and  shouting,  until,  at  length,  they  reached  the 
place  at  which  they  had  first  come  out  upon  the 
shore. 

'^  Now,  boys,"  said  the  captain, ''  from  here  to  the 
l)int  down  thar  is  all  new  ground.  We  must  go 
along  here,  an  keep  a  good  lookout.  If  we  hev 
any  chance  lei't  of  findin  anythin,  it's  thar.  I'm 
ony  sorry  we  didn't  examine  this  here  fust  an  fore- 
most, before  ^.vanderin  away  off  up  thar,  whar  'tain't 
at  all  likely  that  Solomon  ever  dreamed  of  goin. 
I  hope  the  boys  won't  be  long  gettin  off  that  thar 
boat." 

*'  Perhaps  they  can't  get  one." 

'^  0,  yes,  they  can.  I  saw  two  or  three  down 
thar." 

•    They  now  walked  on  a  little  farther. 


I:  i 


■•^ILIl 


198 


LOST  IN  THE   FOG. 


At  this  place  the  clifl'  was  as  steep  as  it  liaci  l)een 
behind ;  but  tiie  rocky  shelves  were  more  iiuiner- 
oiis,  and  down  near  the  shore  they  projected,  one 
beyond  another,  so  that  they  looked  like  natural 
steps. 

'^  If  Solomon  was  caught  by  the  tide  anywhar 
hereabouts,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  'Khar's  no  ulhly 
reason  why  he  sliouldn't  save  himself.  He  could 
walk  up  them  rocks  jest  like  goin  up  stairs,  an  git 
out  of  the  way  of  the  heaviest  surf  an  the  highest 
tide  that  these  shores  ever  saw." 

'^  It  all  depends,"  said  Phil,  '^  on  whether  he 
staid  about  here,  or  went  farther  iq)." 

''Course  —  an  it's  my  opinion  that  he  did  stay 
about  here.  He  was  never  such  an  old  fool  as  to 
go  so  far  u})  as  we  did.  Why,  ef  he'd  a  done  so 
over  them  rocks,  he'd  never  have  got  the  use  of 
his  legs  agin." 

"  Strange  we  don't  see  any  signs  of  him." 
■ '.  '"  0,  wal,  thar's  places  yet  we  hevn't  tried." 

"One  thing  is  certain ^ — we  haven't  found  any 
signs  of  him.  If  anything  had  happened,  we'd  have 
seen  his  basket  iloating." 

"  Yes,  or  his  old  hat." 

"  1  should  think,  if  he  were  anywhere  hereabouts, 
he'd  hear  the  noise ;  we  are  shouting  loud  enough, 
I'm  sure.  As  for  your  voice,  why,  he  ought  to 
lioar  it  a  mile  away  ;  and  the  point  down  there 
doesn't  seem  to  be  a  quarter  that  distance." 

"  0,  it's  further  than  that ;  besides,  my  voice  can't 


THE   captain's   YELL. 


199 


penetrate  so  easily  down  tliar.  It  gits  kine  o'  lost 
among  the  rocks.  It  can  go  very  easy  in  a  straight 
line ;  but  when  it's  got  to  turn  corners,  an  go  kine 
o'  round  the  edges  o'  sharp  rocks,  it  don't  get  on 
so  well  by  a  long  chalk.  But  I  think  I'll  try  an  di- 
varsify  these  here  proceedins  by  yellin  a  ieetlo 
lower  down." 

So  saying,  Captain  Corbet  knelt  down,  and  put- 
ting his  head  over  the  cliil',  he  uttered  the  loudest, 
and  sharpest,  and  shrillest  yell  that  he  could  give. 
Then  he  listened  in  silence,  and  the  boys  also  lis- 
tened in  breathless  expectation  lor  some  time. 
But  there  was  no  response  whatever. 

Captain  Corbet  arose  with  a  sigh. 

^^  Wal,  boys,"  said  he,  in  a  mournful  tone,  "  we 
nuist  git  on  to  the  pint.  We'd  ought  to  know  the 
wust  pooty  soon.  But,  at  any  rate,  I'm  bound  to 
hope  for  the  best  till  hope  air  over." 

The  little  party  now  resumed  their  progress, 
and  walked  on  towards  the  })oint,  shouting  at  in- 
tervals, as  before. 

From  this  place  on  as  far  as  the  point,  the  ground 
was  clear,  and  there  Avas  nothing  to  bar  their  way. 
They  could  go  along  without  being  comj)elled  to 
make  any  further  detour,  and  could  keep  near 
enough  to  the  edge  to  connrand  a  view  of  the 
rocks  below.  They  walked  on,  and  shouted  with- 
out ceasing,  and  thus  traversed  a  portion  of  the 
way. 

•Suddenly  Captain  Corbet's  oyo  caught  sight  of 


200 


LOST  IN  THE  FOG. 


something  in  the  water.  It  was  round  in  shape, 
and  was  floating  witliin  a  few  feet  of  the  shore,  on 
the  top  of  a  wave.  As  Captain  Corbet  looked,  the 
wave  rolled  from  underneath  it,  and  dashed  itself 
upon  the  rooks,  while  the  floating  object  seemed  to 
be  thrown  farther  out.  The  tide  had  turned  al- 
ready, and  was  now  on  the  ebb,  so  that  floating 
articles,  such  as  this,  were  carried  away  from  the 


shore,  rather  than  towards  it. 


Upon  this  Captain  Corbet  fastened  his  gaze,  and 
stood  in  silence  looking  at  it.  At  length  he  put 
his  hand  on  Phil's  slioulder,  and  directed  the  atten- 
tion of  the  boys  to  the  floating  object. 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?  "  said  he. 

"  What  ?  " 

"  That  thing." 

"  What  —  that  round  thing  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  round  thing.  Look  sharp  at  it  now. 
What  doos  it  look  like  to  your  young  eyes  ?  " 

Phil  and  Pat  looked  at  it  very  carefully,  and  in 
silence.  Then  Pliil  looked  up  into  Captain  Cor- 
bet's face  without  saying  a  word. 

"  Wal  ?  " 

"  What  is  it,  do  you  think  ?  "  asked  Phil,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Sure  an  it's  a  hat  —  a  sthraw  hat,"  said  Pat. 

Captain  Corbet  exchanged  a  meaning  glance 
with  Phil. 

*'  Do  you  think  it's  his  hat  ?  "  asked  Phil. 


THE    OLD    HAT. 


201 


"  Whose  else  can  it  be  ?  " 

Phil  was  silent,  and  his  gaze  was  once  more  di- 
rected to  the  floating  object.  As  it  rose  and  fell 
on  the  waves,  it  showed  the  unmistakable  outline 
of  a  straw  hat,  and  was  quite  near  enough  for 
them  to  recognize  its  general  character  and  color. 
It  was  dark,  with  the  edges  rather  ragged,  a  broad 
brim,  and  a  roomy  crown,  not  by  any  means  of  a 
fashionable  or  graceful  shape,  but  coarse,  and  big, 
and  roomy,  and  shabby — just  such  a  hat  as  Solomon 
had  put  on  his  head  when  he  left  Grand  Pre  with 
them  on  this  memorable  and  ill-fated  voyage. 

"  They  looked  at  it  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  and 
none  of  them  moved. 

Captain  Corbet  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

'^  This  here,"  said  he,  "  has  been  a  eventfool 
v/ge.  I  felt  a  derred  pcrsentment  afore  I  started. 
Long  ago  I  told  you  how  the  finger  of  destiny 
seemed  to  warn  me  away  from  the  ocean  main.  I 
kem  to  the  conclusion,  you  remember,  that  hence- 
forth 1  was  to  dwell  under  my  own  vine  an  fig 
tree,  engaged  in  the  tender  emplymint  of  nussin 
tlie  infant.  But  I'rom  this  I  was  forced  agin  my 
own  inclynations.  An  what's  the  result?  Why, 
tliis  —  that  thar  hat !  See  here,  boys  ;  "  and  the 
venerable  seaman's  tone  grew  dee})er,  and  more 
solemn,  and  more  impressive  ;  "  see  here,  boys,"  ho 
repeated  ;  "  for  mor'n  forty  year  hev  I  follered  the 
seas,  an  traversed  the  briny  deep ;  but,  though 
Pve  hed  my  share  of  storms  an  accy dints,  thougli 


202 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


t^- 


I've  ben  shipwrecked  onst  or  twisto,  yet  never  lias 
it  ben  my  lot  to  experience  any  loss  of  liuman  life. 
But  now,  but  now,  boys,  call  to  mine!  the  startlin 
events  of  this  here  vygo  !  Think  of  your  com- 
panion an  playmate  a  driftin  off  in  that  startlin 
manner  from  Petticoat  Jack  !  An  now  look  here 
—  gaze  upon  that  diar  !     Words  air  footil  ! " 

*'  Do  you  give  him  up,  then  ?  "  cried  Phil.  ^'  Poor, 
2)oor  old  Solomon  1  " 

Captain  Corbet  shook  his  head. 

"  'Deed,  thin,  an  I  don't !  "  cried  Pat.  "  What's 
a  hilt?  'Tain't  a  man,  so  it  isn't.  Many's  the  man 
that's  lo?t  his  hat,  an  ain't  lost  his  life.  It's  a 
windy  place  here,  an  ole  Solomon's  hat's  a  mile  too 
big  for  him,  so  it  is  —  'deed  an  it  is." 

Captain  Corbet  shook  his  head  more  gloomily 
than  ever. 

"  Ow,  sure  an  ye  needn't  bo  shakin  yer  head  that 
way.  Sure  an  haven't  ye  lost  hats  av  yer  own, 
over  an  over  ?  " 

"  Never,"  said  the  captain.    ''1  never  lost  a  hat." 

"  Niver  got  one  blowed  oif  ?  'Deed  an  ye  must 
have." 

"  I  never  got  one  blowed  olf.  When  the  wind 
blowed  hard  1  alius  kcp  'em  tied  on." 

"  Well,  Solomon  hadn't  any  tie  to  his,  an  it  cud 
tumble  olf  his  old  pate  asy  enough,  so  it  cud.  Sure 
he's  lost  it  jumpin  over  the  rocks.  Besides,  whero's 
his  basket?" 

"  At  the  bottom,  no  doubt." 


i 


THE   RETURN   CRY. 


20.-) 


iiid 


"  Sure  an  it  cud  float." 

"  No ;  I  dar  say  it  was  full  of  lobsters." 

''  Any  how,  I'll  not  believe  lie's  gone  till  I  see 
him,"  cried  Pat,  earnestly.     "  Seein's  believin." 

''  Ef  he's  gone,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  more  sol 
cmnly  than  ever,  "ye'll  never  see  him.  These 
Avaters  take  too  good  care  of  a  man  for  that." 

''  Well,  yer  all  givin  up  too  soon,"  said  Pat. 
'•Come  along  now;  there's  lots  of  places  yet  to 
exaiiiin.     Give  one  of  yer  loudest  yolls." 

Captain  Corbet  did  so.  In  spite  of  his  despon- 
dency as  to  poor  old  Solomon's  fate,  he  was  not  at 
all  unwilling  to  try  any  further  chances.  On  this 
occasion  he  seemed  to  gain  unusual  energy  out  of 
liis  very  despair;  and  the  yell  that  burst  from  him 
was  so  high,  so  slirill,  so  piercing,  and  so  far  pene- 
ti'ating,  that  the  former  cries  were  nothing  com- 
i)ared  to  it. 

''  Well  done  ! "  cried  Pat.  "  Sure  an  you  bet 
yerself  that  time,  out  an  out." 

''  Stop  I "  cried  Phil.     "  Listen.     What's  that  ?  " 

Far  away,  as  they  listened,  tliey  heard  a  faint 
cry,  that  seemed  like  a  response. 

"Is  tiiat  the  echo?"  asked  Phil,  anxiously. 

*'  Niver  an  echo  !  "  cried  Pat,  excitedly.  "  Shout 
agin,  captain,  darlin." 

Ca[)tain  Corbet  gave  another  shout  as  loud  and 
as  shrill  as  the  preceding  one. 

They  listened  anxiously. 

Again  they  heard  the  cry.     It  was  faint  and  fiir 


204 


LOST    IN   THE    FOG. 


't  8! 


off;  yet  it  was  unmistakably  a  liMiuan  cry.  Tlicir 
oxcitoniout  now  grew  intense. 

"  Where  did  it  come  from?"  cried  Pliil. 

"  Wal,  it  kine  o'  seemed  to  me  tluit  it  came  back 
thar,"  said  tlie  captain,  pointing  to  the  woods. 

"  'Deed  an  it  didn't,"  cried  Pat ;  ^^  not  a  bit  of 
it.  It  was  from  the  sliore,  jest  ahead ;  from  the 
pint,  so  it  was,  or  I'm  a  nagur." 

"I  think  it  came  from  the  sliore,  too,"  said  Fhil; 
"  but  it  seemed  to  be  behind  us." 

^'  Niver  a  bit,"  cried  Pat ;  "  not  back  there. 
We've  been  there,  an  whoever  it  was  wud  have 
shouted  afore,  so  he  wud.  Xo,  it's  ahead  at  the 
pint.  He's  jest  heard  us,  an  he's  shoutin  aftlier 
us.  Hooray  !  Hurry  up,  an  we'll  be  there  in  time 
to  save  him." 

Pat's  confidence  was  not  without  its  effect  on  the 
others.  Without  waiting  any  longer,  they  at  once 
set  oft'  at  a  run,  stojjping  at  intervals  to  yell,  and 
then  listening  for  a  response.  To  their  delight, 
that  response  came  over  and  over  again ;  and  to 
their  still  greiiter  joy,  the  sound  each  time  was 
evidi^ntly  louder. 

Beyond  a  doubt,  they  were  drawing  nearer  to 
the  place  from  which  the  sounds  came. 

This  stimulated  them  all  the  more,  so  that  they 
hurried  on  faster. 

The  edge  of  the  cliff  was  not  covered  by  any 
trees, but  tlie  ground  at  its  summit  luid  been  cleared, 
80  that  progress  was  not  at  all  difficult.     They 


CORBET'S   CALL,   AXD   THE   ANSWER. 


205 


:s.M 


tlu?rof()r(3  (lid  not  take  muoli  time  in  traversing  tlie 
space  tliat  intervened  between  tlie  spot  where 
tliey  had  first  lieard  tlie  cry,  and  tlie  point  where 
the  cliff  terminated.  Tlie  cry  grev,'"  steadily  loud- 
er, all  tlie  way, nntil  at  last,  when  they  approached 
the  point,  it  seemed  to  come  directly  from  beneath. 

The  clin*  here  was  perpendicular  for  about  I'orty 
feet  down,  and  below  this  it  seemed  to  retreat,  so 
that  nothing  could  be  seen.  The  tide  was  on  the 
ebb  ;  but  it  was  still  so  high  that  its  waves  l)eat 
below  them,  and  seemed  to  strike  the  base  of  the 
rock.  Beyond,  on  the  right,  there  was  a  sloping- 
ledge,  which  descended  from  the  cliffs  into  the 
soa,  over  which  the  waves  were  now  pla^'ing. 

It  was  from  the  IkjUow  and  unseen  recess  down 
at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  that  the  cry  seemed  to  arise, 
which  had  come  in  response  to  the  calls  of  those 
on  the  summit.  On  reaching  the  place  above,  they 
knelt  down,  and  looked  over,  but  were  not  able  to 
distinguish  any  human  being,  or  any  sign  of  the 
presence  of  one.  But  as  they  looked  anxiously 
over,  the  cry  arose,  not  very  loud,  but  quite  dis- 
tinct now,  and  assured  them  that  this  was  the 
place  which  sheltered  the  one  who  had  uttered 
that  cry. 

Captain  Corbet  now  thrust  his  head  over  as  fiir 
as  he  could,  and  gave  a  call  in  his  loudest  voice. 

"  TTal-lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o ! " 

To  which  there  came  up  in  answer  a  cry  that 
sounded  like  — 


206 


LOST   IN   THE   FOf}. 


<Sm  ./' 


"  rii-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i  !" 

"  Solomo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oii ! " 

"  He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ev  !  " 

"  Is  that  yo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ou  ?  " 

"  It's  inc-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e  !  " 

"  Where  are  y-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ou  ?  " 

"  He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-re  !  " 

"  Come  u-u-u-u-u-u-u-up  !  " 

"  Ca-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a  '^'t !  '' 

'^  Wliy  no-o-o-o-o-o-c-o-o-ot  ?  " 

"  Too  lii-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-gli !  " 

"  Go  round  the  pi-i-i-i-i-i-nt  I  " 

''  Too  high  ti-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-de  !  " 

"  Wa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-it  !  " 

''  All  ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-glit !  " 

Captain  Corbet  now  sprang  np  as  nimbly  as  a 
young  lad,  and  looked  at  Phil  and  Pat  with  an  ex- 
pression of  sucli  exceeding  triumph,  that  his  face 
seemed  fairly  to  shine. 

"  It  is  Solomon  !  "  ho  cried.  But  it  was  of  no 
use  for  him  to  convey  that  piece  of  information  to 
the  boys,  who  already  knew  that  fact  quite  as  well 
as  he  did. 

"  It  is  Solomon,"  he  repeated  ;  "  an  now  the  pint 
is,  liow  air  we  to  git  him  up?  " 

"  Let  me  go  down,"  said  Pat. 

'^  How  ?  " 

"  Sure  an  I  can  git  down  wid  that  bit  o'  rope 
you  have." 

"  Mebbe  you  can,  an  then  agin  niebbe  you  can't; 


WATTTNC    FOR    TIIK    I'.OAT. 


207 


but  s'posin  you  was  to  git  down,  liow  upon  airtli 
would  that  help  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Sure  an  we  cud  give  him  a  pull  up." 

"  I  don't  think  we  could  manage  that,"  said  Cap- 
tain Corbet,  "  and  you  couldn't,  at  any  rate,  if  3^ou 
were  down  thar  with  him.  As  far  as  I  see,  we'll 
hev  to  wait  till  the  tide  falls." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better,"  said  Phil,  "  for  us  to  go 
around,  so  as  to  come  nearer?  " 

'-  How  ?     Whar  ?  " 

"  Why,  down  to  the  beach,  and  then  we  could 
walk  around  the  point." 

"  Walk  ?     Why,  it's  high  water." 

"So  it  is  — I  forgot  that." 

"  The  fact  is,  we  can't  git  any  nearer  than  we 
air  now.  Then,  agin,  the  boys'll  be  along  in  a  boat 
soon.  The}^  ought  to  be  here  by  this  time  ;  so  let's 
sit  down  here,  an  wait  till  they  heave  in  sight." 

With  a  call  of  encouragement  to  Solomon  which 
elicited  a  reply  of  satisfaction.  Captain  Corbet  sat 
down  upon  the  grass,  and  the  boys  followed  his  ex- 
ample. In  this  position  they  waited  quietly  for 
the  boat  to  come. 

Meanwhile,  Bart  and  Bruce  had  hurried  on  as 
rapidly  as  their  legs  could  carry  tlicm,  and  at 
length  reached  the  path  which  went  down  to  the 
beach.  Down  this  they  scrambled,  and  not  long- 
afterwards  they  reached  the  ship-yard.  Here  they 
obtained  a  boat  without  any  difficulty,  which  the 
workmen  launched  for  them ;  and  then  tht^y  pushed 


208 


LOST   IN  THE  FOO. 


u  I 


off,  fuid  j)ullo(l  for  the  point,  witli  tlio  intention  of 
rowing  along  opposite  the  vshore,  and  narrowly  in- 
specting it. 

Scarcely  liacl  they  reached  the  point,  however, 
when  a  loud  and  well-known  voice  sounded  from 
on  high.  They  both  turned  and  looked  up,  still  pul- 
ling. There  they  saw^  Captain  Corbet,  and  Phil, 
and  Pat,  all  of  whom  were  shouting  and  making 
furious  gestures  at  them. 

"  We've  found  him  I  Come  in  closer  !  "  cried 
Ca[)tain  Corbet. 

"  Whe-e-e-re  ?  "  cried  Bruce. 

But  before  any  answer  could  come,  a  loud,  shrill 
scream,  followed  by  a  yell  of  delight,  burst  forth 
IVom  some  place  still  nearer. 

Bart  and  Bruce  both  started,  and  looked  towards 
the  place  from  which  this  last  cry  came. 

There  a  very  singular  and  pleasing  sight  met 
their  eyes. 

About  six  feet  above  the  water  was  a  shelf  of 
rock,  that  ran  down  sloping  to  the  beach,  and  over 
this  there  projected  a  great  mass  of  the  cliff.  In 
this  recess  there  crouched  a  familiar  figure.  He 
had  no  hat,  but  between  his  legs,  as  he  sat  there, 
he  held  a  basket,  to  which  he  clung  with  his  knees 
and  his  hands.  As  ho  sat  there  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  them,  and  their  wdiites  seemed  enlarged  to 
twice  their  ordinary  dimensions,  while  yell  after 
yell  came  from  him.  ' 

"  Help,  he-e-e-e-e-lp  !     Mas'r  Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-art ! 


.11 


SOLOMON   RESCaED. 


200 


O,  Mcis'r  Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-}Kirt !  Ile-e-e-o-o-e-e-e-e-e-lp  ! 
Sa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-avo  mc  ! " 

''  Hurrah  !  liurrali  !  "  cried  Bart  and  Bruce,  in  a 
burst  of  heartfelt  joy. 

'•  Ile-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-lp !  "  came  forth  once  more 
i'roHi  Sulomon. 

"All  right,"  cried  Bart;  and  at  once  the  boat 
pointed  towards  the  place  where  Solomon  was  sit- 
ting-. The  water  nearer  the  shore  was  somewhat 
rougii,  but  fortunately  there  were  no  rocks  just 
there,  and  they  were  able  to  bring  tb.c  boat  in  close 
to  tlie  place  where  Solomon  was  confined.  At 
their  approach  Solomon  moved  slowly  down  the  in- 
cline of  tlie  rock,  on  his  hands  and  knees,  for  there 
Avas  not  room  for  him  to  stand  upright ;  and  as  he 
moved  he  pushed  the  basket  before  him,  as  though 
tluTc  was  something  inside  of  uncommon  value. 
Reaching,  at  length,  a  spot  where  the  rock  was 
about  the  level  of  the  boat,  he  waited  for  them  to 
ap])roach.     Soon  the  boat  touched  the  rock. 

'■  Come,  old  Sol,''  cried  Bart,  "  jump  in !  " 

''  ITyah,  take  hole  ob  dis  yar,"  said  Solomon,  even 
in  that  moment  of  rescue  refusing  to  move  till  his 
precious  basket  should  be  safe. 

Bart  grasped  it,  and  put  it  into  the  boat,  noticing, 
as  he  did  so,  that  it  was  full  of  lobsters. 

'''  Come,  Solomon,  hurry  up.  I  don't  like  the 
boat  to  be  knocking  here  this  way." 

"  All  right,  sail,"  said  Solomon,  crawling  along 
rather  stiffly ;  "  ben  tied  up  in  a  knot  all  day,  an 

li 


210 


LOST   IN  THE  FOG. 


feel  SO  stiff  dat  I  don't  know  as  I'll  git  untied  agin 
fur  ebber  mo.  Was  jest  makin  my  will,  any  way, 
as  you  came  along." 

J]y  this  time  Solomon  had  tumbled  into  the 
boat,  and  worked  his  way  aft,  though  not  without 
many  groans. 

''  It's  de  cold  rocks,  an  de  wet,"  he  groaned. 
''  Sech  an  attack  o'  rheumaticses  as  diy  ole  nigga's 
gwine  to  hab  beats  all !  Any  how,  I  ben  an  sabed 
de  lobsta.  Loss  me  ole  hat,  but  didn't  car  a  mite 
fer  dat  so  long  as  I  sabed  de  lobsta." 

"  All  right,"  cried  Bart ;  and  at  this  the  two  boys 
pulled  away  from  the  rocks  and  rounded  tlie  point. 
As  they  came  into  the  sight  of  those  who  were 
waiting  on  the  top  of  the  clilf,  a  shout  of  joy  arose. 


TOM    EXPLORTNO    TITI-:    ISLAND. 


211 


XV. 


Explorlmi  Juan  Fcrnandc::.  —  TJie  Cliffs.  —  The 
tamjkd  Underhrmh.  —  21ie  Fo(j  Bank.  —  Is  it 
comimj  or  c/ounj  ?  —  llie  Steamer.  —  Vain  Jp- 
pcals.  —  Neiv  Plans. 


TAUTINCt  off,  as  wo  liavo  seen,  to  explore  tlio 
island,  Tom  first  direeted  Iiis  stei)s  towards 
the  elevated  land  wlileli  has  before  been  men- 
tioned. At  first  liis  ])atli  was  easy,  and  the  descent 
very  <;-radual  ;  but  at  length  it  became  more  difficult, 
and  he  had  to  ascend  a  steep  hill,  which  was  over- 
strewn  with  stones  and  interspersed  with  trees  and 
mounds.  Up  among  these  he  worked  his  way,  and 
at  length  the  ascent  ceased.  lie  was  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  island.  Here  he  walked  to  the  edge  of 
the  area  on  which  he  stood,  and  found  himself  on 
the  edge  of  a  preci[)icc  that  went  sheer  down  to  a 
beach,  which  was  apparently  two  hundred  feet  be- 
neath him.  The  precipice  seemed  actually  to  lean 
forward  out  of  the  perpendicular,  and  so  tremen- 
dous was  the  view  beneath,  that  'J\jm,  although  not 
by  any  means  inclined  to  be  nervous,  found  his 
head   grow   giddy   as    he    looked    down.     Looking 


^iv  ! 


212 


LOST   IN   THE   POC. 


1 


forth  tlius  from  liis  dizzy  elevation,  lie  could  see 
across  the  bay  to  the  New  TJruiiswick  shore,  and 
coultl  mark  the  general  course  which  his  drifting 
boat  must  have  taken  over  those  deep,  dark,  and 
treacherous  waters. 

The  sea  was  broad,  and  blue,  and  tranquil,  and 
desolate,  for  even  from  this  commanding  heiglit 
not  a  sail  was  visible.  There  was  nothing  hero 
which  could  attract  Tom's  attention  for  any  long- 
period ;  so  he  pre})arcd  to  continue  his  i)rogress. 
In  front  of  him  lay  a  wood,  before  plunging  in 
which  he  turned  to  see  if  there  were  any  vessels 
coming  through  the  Straits  of  j\Iinas.  None  were 
visible  ;  so,  turning  back  once  more,  ho  resumed  his 
journey,  and  went  forward  among  the  trees. 

Flis  [)ath  now  became  a  dillicult  one.  It  was 
necessary  to  kee[)  away  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff, 
but  still  not  to  go  out  of  sight  of  it.  The  trees 
were  principally  spruce  and  fir,  but  there  were  also 
birch  and  maple.  ITe  also  noticed  mountain  ;ish 
and  willow.  Rencath  him  all  the  ground  was 
covered  with  soft  moss,  in  which  he  sank  to  his 
ankles,  while  on  every  side  were  luxuriant  ferns 
and  evergreen  trailers.  Tom  recognized  all 
these  with  great  satisfaction,  for  they  showed  him 
tlje  means  of  furnishing  for  himself  a  soft  couch, 
that  might  be  envied  by  many  a  man  in  better  cir- 
cumstances. Progress  soon  grew  more  diflicult, 
for  there  were  numerous  mounds,  and  dense  under- 
brush, through  which  he  could  only  force  his  way 


HIS    PROGRESS   SLOW    AND    LABORIOUS. 


213 


(\  see 
e,  and 
rifting 
k,  and 


il,  and 
lioio'lit 
i;  liore 

y  l^'"g 
egress. 

ing   in 

k^esselrf 

>  W('re 


l)y  extreme  eiTort.  Windfalls  alsij  lay  around  in 
all  directions,  and  no  sooner  would  lie  luive  fairly 
surmounted  one  of  them,  than  another  would  a[)- 
pear.  Thus  his  progress  was  exceedingly  slow 
and  laborious. 

After  about  a  half  an  hour  of  strenuous  exertion, 
'^fom  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  an  ahnost  im- 
passable jungle  of  tangled,  stunted  fir  trees.  Ho 
Iriud  to  avoid  these  by  making  a  detour,  but  found 
that  they  extended  so  far  that  lie  could  only  i»ass 
them  by  going  along  close  to  the  edge  of  the  cliiV. 
This  last  path  he  chose,  and  clinging  to  the  In'anchcs, 
he  passed  for  more  than  a  huncb'ed  yards  along  the 
crest  of  a  frightful  precipice,  where  far  down  there 
yawned  an  abyss,  at  whose  bottom  was  the  sea; 
while  abreast  of  him  in  the  air  there  floated  great 
flocks  of  gulls,  uttering  their  hoarse  yells,  and  flut- 
tering fiercely  about,  as  though  trying  to  drive 
l)ack  this  intruder  upon  their  domains.  Once  or 
twice  Tom  was  compelled  to  stop,  and  turn  away 
his  face  from  the  abyss,  and  thrust  himself  in  among 
the  trees;  but  each  time  he  regained  his  courage, 
after  a  little  rest,  and  went  on  as  before. 

At  length  he  passed  the  thick  spruces  under- 
brush, and  found  the  woods  less  dense.  He  could 
now  work  his  way  among  them  without  l)eing  com- 
pelled to  go  so  close  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff;  and 
tlie  dizzv  heic'ht  and  the  shrieks  of  the  ^'ulls  no 
longer  disturbed  his  senses.  The  trees  here  were 
not  so  high  as  those  at  the  other  end  of  the  island, 


214 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


but  were  of  much  smaller  size,  uiid  seemed  stunted. 
There  were  no  maples  or  other  forest  trees,  but 
only  scraggy  fir,  that  seemed  too  exposed  to  the 
winds  from  the  sea  to  have  much  health  or  verdure. 
The  underbrush  was  wanting  to  a  great  extent, 
but  moss  was  here  in  large  quantities,  and  thick 
clusters  of  alder  bushes.  Wild  shrubs  also  —  such 
as  raspberries  and  blueberries  —  were  frerpiently 
met  with ;  while  ledges  of  weather-beaten  rock 
jutted  out  from  amid  thick  coverings  of  moss. 

Walking  here  was  not  at  all  diilicult,  and  he  went 
on  without  any  interruption,  until,  at  last,  he  found 
any  farther  progress  barred  by  a  precipice.  He 
was  at  the  lower  or  western  end  of  the  island. 

lie  looked  down,  and  found  beneath  him  a  great 
precipice,  while  rocks  jutted  out  from  the  sea,  and 
ledges  projected  beyond.  Tlie  gulls  were  present 
here,  as  elsewhere,  in  great  flocks,  and  stili  kept 
up  their  noisy  screams. 

Tom  looked  out  over  the  sea,  and  saw  its  waters 
spread  far  away  till  it  was  lost  in  the  horizon.  On 
the  line  of  that  horizon  he  saw  a  iaint  gray  cloud, 
that  looked  like  a  fog  bank.  It  had,  to  his  eyes,  a 
certain  gloomy  menace,  and  seemed  to  say  to  him 
that  he  had  not  seen  the  last  of  it  yet.  On  the  left 
of  the  broad  sea,  the  Nova  Hcotia  coast  ran  along 
till  it  was  lost  in  the  distance  ;  and  on  the  right  was 
the  long  line  of  the  New  Brunswick  shore,  both  of 
which  had  now  that  dark  hue  of  olive  green  which 
he  bad  noticed  on  the  land  op])osite  before  he  had 
started. 


I 


TOM   DISCOVERS    A   SAIL. 


215 


Suddenly,  while  he  was  looking-,  his  eyes  caught 
sight  of  something  white  thut  glistened  brightly 
I'runi  the  blue  water.  It  was  about  midway  be- 
tween the  two  coasts,  and  he  knew  it  at  once  to  be 
some  sailing  vessel.  He  could  not  make  out  more 
tlian  one  sail,  and  that  showed  that  the  vessel  was 
either  coming  up  the  bay  or  going  down;  for  if 
it  had  been  crossing,  she  would,  of  course,  have  lain 
broadside  on  to  his  present  locality,  and  would  have 
thus  displayed  two  sails  to  his  view.  The  sight 
of  this  vessel  agitated  him  exceedingly ;  and  the 
question  about  her  probable  course  now  entered  his 
mind,  and  drove  away  all  other  thouglits.  Whether 
that  vessel  were  going  up  or  down  became  of  ex- 
chisive  importance  to  him  now.  If  she  were  coming 
u]),  she  might  approach  him,  and  hear  his  hail,  or 
catch  sight  of  his  signals.  Suddenly  lie  reflected 
that  he  had  no  way  of  attracting  attention,  and  a 
wild  desire  of  running  back  and  setting  up  the 
longest  pole  or  board  that  ho  could  find  came  into 
his  mind ;  but  such  was  the  intensity  of  his  curi- 
osity, and  the  weight  of  his  suspense,  that  he  could 
not  move  from  the  spot  where  he  was  until  he  had 
satislied  himself  as  to  the  vessel's  course. 

He  sat  down  not  far  from  the  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice,and,  leaning  forw  ird  with  his  hands  supporting 
his  chin,  he  strained  his  eyes  over  the  intervening 
distance,  as  he  tried  to  make  out  in  which  way  the 
vessel  was  going.  It  seemed  fully  ten  miles  away, 
and  Iier   hull   was  not  visible.     It  was    only   the 


216 


LOST    IN    THE    FOG. 


wliite  of  lier  nails  tluit  lu3  saw  ;  and  as  tlie  sun- 
liglit  played  on  those  from  time  to  time,  or  fell  off 
from  the  angle  of  reflection,  the  vessel  was  alter- 
nately more  or  less  visible,  and  thus  seemed  by 
turns  to  draw  nearer  and  dejjart  farther  from  his 
siglit. 

Thus  for  a  long  time  he  sat,  alternately  hoping 
and  desponding,  at  every  play  of  those  sails  in  the 
sunlight.  The  calm  of  the  water  showed  Inin  that, 
even  if  the  vessel  were  coming  up,  he  could  not 
expect  any  very  rapid  progress.  There  was  now 
no  wind;  and  the  surface  of  the  water  was  jx-rfect- 
ly  unruffled.  Besides,  he  knew  that  the  tide  was 
falling  rapidly.  How,  then,  could  he  ex})ect  that 
the  vessel  could  come  any  nearer,  even  if  she  were 
trying  to?  Thoughts  like  these  at  last  made  him 
only  anxious  to  keep  the  vessel  in  sight.  If  lier 
destination  lay  up  the  bay,  she  would  probably  an- 
chor ;  if  it  lay  down  the  bay,  she  would  drift  with 
the  tide.  He  thought,  then,  that  if  she  only  would 
remain  in  sight,  it  would  be  a  sufficient  proof  of 
her  course. 

Thus  he  sat,  watching  and  waiting,  with  all  his 
soul  intent  upon  those  flashing  sails,  and  all  his 
thoughts  taken  up  with  the  question  as  to  the 
course  of  that  solitary  bark.  It  seemed  a  long 
time  to  him,  in  his  suspense  ;  but  suspense  always 
makes  time  seem  long.  At  last,  however,  even 
though  he  hoped  so  persistently  for  the  best,  his 
hope  began  to  die  within  him.     Fainter  and  fainter 


THE   SAIL    DISAPPEARS. 


217 


grew  those  sails ;  at  intervals  rarer  and  rarer  did 
their  fhisli  come  to  liis  eyes,  until  at  length  the 
sight  of  them  was  lost  altogether,  and  nothing  met 
his  eyes  but  the  gloomy  gray  of  the  fog  cloud  on 
tiie  I'ar  horizon. 

Even  after  he  had  lost  hope,  and  become  con- 
vinced that  she  was  gone,  Tom  sat  there  for  a  long 
time,  in  a  fixed  attitude,  looking  at  that  one  spot. 
lie  would  have  sat  there  longer,  but  suddenly  there 
came  to  his  ears  a  peculiar  sound,  which  made  him 
start  to  his  feet  in  a  moment,  and  filled  him  with  a 
new  excitement.  * 

He  listened. 

Tne  sound  came  again. 

A  flush  of  joy  spread  over  his  face,  his  heart 
beat  faster  and  faster,  and  he  listened  as  though 
ho  could  scarce  believe  his  senses. 

As  ho  listened,  the  sounds  came  again,  and  this 
time  much  louder. 

There  was  now  no  mistake  about  it.  It  was  a 
regular  beat,  which  Tom  knew  well  to  be  the  pecu- 
liar sound  made  by  the  floats  of  a  steamer's  i)ad- 
dles.  He  had  often  heard  it.  He  had  but  recently 
heard  it,  when  the  revenue  steamer  was  approach- 
ing the  Antelope,  and  again  during  the  foggy 
night,  when  the  whistle  roused  them,  and  the 
same  beat  of  the  paddles  came  over  the  midnight 
waters. 

And  now,  too,  he  heard  it. 

He  gave  a  shout  of  joy,  and  started  off  to  catch 
eight  of  her. 


218 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


For  a  few  pac(3s  only  he  ran,  and  then  stopped. 

He  was  puzzled.  He  did  not  know  in  whieh  di 
reetion  it  was  best  to  go.  He  was  at  the  west  end 
of  the  island,  but  could  not  make  out  very  well  the 
direction  of  the  sounds.  He  tried  to  think  wheth- 
er the  steamer  would  pass  the  island  on  the  north 
side  or  the  south.  He  did  not  know,  but  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  would  certainly  ^o  to  the  north  of 
it.  TJiere  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  standing 
there  to  listen  did  not  seem  to  be  of  any  use,  even 
if  his  impatience  had  allowed  him  to  do  so.  Ac- 
cordingly he  hurried  back  by  the  way  that  he  had 
come  along  the  north  side  of  the  island. 

For  some  time  he  ran  along  through  the  trees, 
and  at  length,  in  about  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  he 
reached  tlie  place  where  the  dense  underbrush  was, 
by  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  From  this  point  a  wide  view 
was  commanded.  On  reaching  it  he  looked  out,  and 
then  up  the  bay,  towards  the  Straits  of  Minas.  He 
could  see  almost  up  to  the  straits,  but  no  steamer 
appeared.  For  a  moment  he  stood  bewildered^  and 
then  the  thought  came  to  him,  that  he  had  mistaken 
altogether  the  steamer's  course.  She  could  not  be 
coming  down  on  the  north  side  of  the  island,  but 
on  the  south  side.  With  a  cry  of  grief  he  started 
back  again,  mourning  over  his  error,  and  the  time 
that  he  had  lost.  On  reaching  the  more  open  wood, 
he  thought  that  it  would  be  better  to  hurry  across 
tlie  island  to  the  south  side,  and  proceeded  at  once 
to  do  so.     The  way  was  rough  and  tedious.     Once 


A   STEAMER    IN   THE    BAY. 


210 


or  twice  lie  liad  to  burst  tlirougli  thickets  of  aider, 
tUid  several  times  he  had  to  cliinl)  over  wiiidlalls. 
At  length,  ill  his  confusion,  he  lost  his  way  altogeth- 
er; he  had  to  stop  and  think.  The  shadows  of  the 
trees  showed  him  where  the  soutl;  lay,  and  he  re- 
sumed his  journey.  At  length,  after  most  exhaus- 
tive elforts,  he  reached  a  part  of  the  clilf,  wliere  a 
fringe  of  alders  grew  so  thick,  that  he  was  scarce 
aware  that  he  was  at  his  destination,  until  the 
precipice  opened  beneath  him.  Here  he  stood, 
and,  pressing  apart  the  dense  branches,  he  looked 
out. 

There  was  the  steamer,  about  two  miles  off,  al- 
ready below  where  he  was  standing,  and  going 
rapidly  down  the  bay  with  the  falling  tide. 

Another  cry  of  grief  burst  from  Tom.  Where 
he  was  standing  he  could  see  the  vessel,  but  he 
himself  was  completely  concealed  by  the  clustering 
bushes.  He  now  lamented  that  he  had  left  his  first 
position,  and  saw  that  his  only  chance  was  to  have 
remained  there. 

To  stay  where  he  was  could  not  be  thought  of. 
There  was  scarce  a  chance  now  of  doing  anything, 
since  the  steamer  was  so  far  away  ;  but  what 
chance  there  was  certainly  depended  on  his  be- 
ing in  some  conspicuous  position.  He  started  off, 
therefore,  to  the  west  [)oint,  where  he  had  watched 
the  schooner  for  so  long  a  tim(\  lie  hurried  on 
with  undiminished  energy,  and  bounded  over  wind- 
i'alls,  Mild   burst  through   thickets,  as  belbre.     But 


220 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


in  spite  of  his  efforts,  liis  progress  coul'l  not  be 
more  rapid  than  it  liad  formerly  been.  ITis  route 
was  necessarily  oircnitons,  and  1)clbre  he  could  find 
the  desired  point,  many  more  miiuites  had  elapsed. 

But  he  reached  it  at  last,  and  there,  on  the  bare 
rock,  springing  forward,  he  waved  his  hat  in  the 
air,  and  sent  forth  a  piercing  cry  for  help.  But  the 
steamer  was  now  as  much  as  four  or  five  miles 
away  —  too  lar  altogether  for  his  loudest  cry  to  go. 
His  screams  and  his  gestures  did  not  appear  to  at- 
tract the  slightest  attention.  She  moved  on  her 
way  right  under  the  eyes  of  the  frantic  and  de- 
spairing boy,  nor  did  she  change  her  course  in  tlie 
slightest  degree,  nor  did  her  paddles  cease  to  re- 
volve, but  went  rolling  round,  tossing  up  the  foam, 
iind  bearing  far,  far  away  that  boat  on  which  poor 
Tom  had  rested  his  last  hope. 

As  for  Tom,  he  kept  up  his  screams  as  long  as 
he  could  utter  a  sound.  He  tore  off  his  coat,  and 
shook  it  up  and  down,  and  waved  it  backward  and 
forward.  But  none  of  these  things  were  heard  or 
seen.  The  steamboat  passed  on,  until,  at  length, 
even  Tom  became  convinced  that  further  eftbrts 
were  useless. 

This  last  blow  was  too  much.  Tom  sank  under 
it,  and,  falling  on  his  face,  he  burst  into  a  flood  of 
tears. 

Struggling  up  at  length  from  this  last  affliction, 
Tom  roused  himself,  and  his  buoyancy  of  soul  be- 
gan once  more  to  assert  itself. 


I 


I 


TOM    ROUSES    HIMSELF. 


221 


"■# 


"Come  now,  Tliomns,  my  son,"  said  lie,  as  lie  flried 
his  eyes,  "  tliis  sort  ol'tlifng  will  never  do,  you  know. 
You're  not  a  baby,  my  boy  ;  you've  never  been 
given  to  blubbering,  I  tliink.  Cheer  up,  then,  like 
a  man,  and  don't  make  me  feel  ashamed  of  you." 

This  little  address  to  himself  had,  as  before,  the 
effi^ct  of  restoring  his  e(|uanimity,  and  he  thought 
with  cahiiness  ujion  his  recent  disappointments. 

Tie  saw,  by  the  passage  of  these  vessels,  what 
he  had  for  a  time  lost  sight  of,  namely,  that  this 
island,  though  uninhabited,  was  still  in  the  middle 
of  a  l)ay  whieh  was  constantly  traversed  by  sailing 
vessels  and  steamboats.  The  latter  ran  regularly 
up  to  the  Basin  of  Minas  from  St.  John.  As  to  the 
former,  they  were  constantly  passing  to  and  fro, 
from  the  large  ship  down  to  the  small  fishing  ves- 
sel. Tnlial)ited  countries  surrounded  him  on  every 
side,  between  the  coasts  of  which  there  was  a  con- 
stant communication.  If  he  only  kept  patient,  the 
time  must  come,  and  that,  too,  before  very  long, 
when  he  would  be  delivered. 

In  order  to  secure  this  delivery,  however,  he  saw 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  arrange  some  way  by 
wdiich  he  might  attract  the  notice  of  passing  ves- 
sels. On  this  suliject  he  meditated  for  a  long  time. 
It  would  be  necessary,  he  thought,  to  have  some 
sort  of  a  signal  in  some  conspicuous  place.  Among 
the  drift-wood  he  might,  perhaps,  be  able  to  find 
some  sort  of  a  pole  or  staff  which  he  could  set  up. 
One  might  not  be  enough,  but  in  that  case  he  could 
put  up  two,  or  three,  or  half  a  dozen. 


222 


LOST   IN   THE   FOC. 


Tlio  next  tiling  to  decide  about  was  tlic  clioico 
of  a  [»lace.  There  was  the  east  end,  and  tlie  west 
end  —  which  was  the  better  ?  The  west  end,  where 
he  was  standing,  was  high;  but  then  it  was  sur- 
rounded l)y  trees,  and  unless  he  could  set  up  a 
very  tall  staff,  it  could  scarcely  be  noticed.  Tiie 
east  end,  on  the  contrary,  was  lower;  but  then  it 
was  bare,  and  any  kind  of  a  signal  which  iTu'ght  be 
set  up  there  could  hardly  fail  to  attract  attention. 
Pie  could  also  pile  up  a  heap  of  drift-wood,  and  set 
fire  to  it,  and,  by  this  means,  if  a  vessel  were  ])ass- 
ing  by,  he  could  be  certain  of  securing  attention. 
It  did  not  make  much  difference  which  end  the  sig- 
nals were  placed  upon,  as  far  as  referred  to  the 
passing  of  vessels  ;  for  all  that  })assed  by  would  go 
along  the  island,  so  that  both  ends  would  be  visible 
to  them. 

As  to  the  signals,  he  felt  confident  that  he  could 
find  a  staff,  or,  if  one  would  not  be  long  enough, 
several  could  be  fastened  together.  I'he  coil  of 
rope  in  the  boat  would  enable  him  to  do  this.  The 
sail  would  afford  material  for  a  fiag. 

All  these  plans  came  to  his  mind  as  he  stood 
there ;  and  the  prospect  of  once  more  doing  some- 
thing which  was  to  help  him  to  escape  from  his 
prison  drove  away  the  last  vestige  of  his  grief. 
His  courage  again  arose,  hope  revived,  and  he  burst 
forth  into  a  light  and  joyous  song.  Ver}^  different 
was  he  now  from  the  despairing  lad  who,  but  a 
short  time  before,  had  been  pouring  forth  his  tears 


i 


PLAN   FOR   MAKING    A    SIO.NAL. 


22.'^. 


of  sorrow ;  and  yet  but  a,  few  miiiutoH  liiul  passer! 
since  tlien.  Tlie  steamer  was  yet  in  siglit  down 
the  bay,  1)ut  Tom,  wl»o  liad  lately  ])ccn  so  frantic 
in  his  efforts  to  attract  her  attention,  now  cast  a 
glance  after  her  of  perfect  in(bfferenco. 

And  now  it  was  necessary  i'or  him  to  return  to 
tlio  east  end  of  the  island,  and  look  about  for  the 
means  of  ])uttiiig-  into  execution  his  plan  for  mak- 
ing a  signal. 

fTe  started  off  on  his  return  without  any  further 
delay.  The  path  back  was  as  rough  and  toilsome 
as  the  way  down  had  been ;  but  Tom  was  now  full 
of  hope,  and  his  elastic  spirits  had  revived  so  thor- 
oughly that  he  cared  but  little  for  the  fatigue  of 
the  journey.  It  was  traversed  at  last,  and  he  de- 
scended the  slope  to  the  place  from  which  he  hud 
started. 

His  exploration  of  the  island  had  been  quite  com- 
plete. It  seemed  to  him  to  be  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  in  length,  and  a  half  a  mile  or  so  in  width. 
The  east  end,  where  he  liad  first  arrived,  was  the 
only  place  where  it  was  at  all  desirable  to  stay. 

Immediately  on  his  arrival  he  examined  the  boat, 
and  found  it  secure.  To  his  surprise  it  was  now 
about  sunset.  lie  had  forgotten  the  lapse  of  time, 
lie  was  hungry;  so  he  sat  down,  ate  his  biscuit, 
drank  his  water,  and  rested  from  the  toils  of  tho 
day. 


224 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


Ill 


iv' 


•  »> 


u 


XVI. 


A  Sign  for  the  outer  World.  —  A  Shelter  for  the 
Outcast's  Head.  —  Tom's  Camp  and  Cantji-hed.  — 
A  Search  after  Somethhaj  to  vary  a  too  inonotonous 
Diet.  —  Brilliant  Success. 

K)M  sat  down  after  liis  eventful  clay,  and  took 
his  evening  meal,  as  has  been  said.  He 
rested  then  for  some  time.  His  excessive 
labors  had  fatigued  him  Jess  than  the  great  excite- 
ment which  he  had  undergone,  and  now  he  felt 
disinclined  to  exert  himself.  But  the  sun  had  set, 
and  darkness  was  coming  on  rapidly  ;  so  he  rose,  at 
last,  and  went  over  to  the  drift-wood.  Here,  after 
a  search  of  about  half  an  hour,  he  found  some- 
thing which  was  very  well  suited  to  his  purpose. 
It  was  a  piece  of  scantling  about  twenty  feet  long, 
and  not  very  thick  ;  and  to  this  he  saw  thnt  he 
could  fasten  the  pole  that  he  had  made  up  in  the 
woods.  These  two  pieces  would  make,  when 
joined,  a  very  good  flag-staff.  These  he  brought 
up  to  the  bank.  Then  he  collected  an  armful  of 
dry  chips  and  sticks,  which  he  carried  over  to  a 
spot  near  where  the  boat  lay.     A  rock  was  there, 


FIRE   THE   BEST   KIND    OF   SIGNAL. 


225 


I 


and  against  one  siflc  of  tliis  lie  bailt  a  pile  of  the 
chips.  He  tlien  tried  a  match,  and  found  that  it 
was  quite  dry,  and  lighted  it  without  any  difficulty. 
With  tliis  he  kindled  the  fire,  and  soon  saw,  with 
great  satisfaction,  a  bright  and  cheerful  blaze. 

He  was  so  delighted  with  the  fire  that  he  brought 
up  a  dozen  more  loads  of  wood,  which  he  laid  near. 
Then  he  drew  up  the  bit  of  scantling,  and  bringing 
the  coil  of  rope,  he  cut  a  piece  off,  and  proceeded 
to  fasten  to  the  scantling  the  pole  which  he  had 
procured  in  the  woods.  lio  did  this  by  winding 
the  rope  around  in  a  close  and  even  wind ;  and, 
finally,  on  concluding  his  task,  he  found  that  it  was 
bound  firmly  enough  to  stand  any  breeze.  It  took 
a  long  time  to  finish  this;  but  Tom  had 'slept  late 
in  the  morning,  and,  though  fatigued,  he  was  not 
sleepy.  After  this  he  sat  down  in  front  of  the 
fire,  and  enjoyed  its  friendly  light  and  its  genial 
glow.  He  kept  heaping  on  the  fuel,  and  the  bright 
flames  danced  up,  giving  to  him  the  first  approach 
to  anything  like  the  feeling  of  comfort  tliat  he  had 
known  since  he  had  drifted  away  from  the  Ante- 
lope. Nor  was  it  comfort  only  that  he  was  mind- 
ful of  while  he  watched  and  fed  the  fire.  He  saw 
in  this  fire,  as  it  shone  out  over  the  water,  the  best 
kind  of  a  signal,  and  had  some  hope  of  being  seen 
and  hailed  by  some  passing  vessel.  In  this  hope 
he  sat  up  till  midnight,  looking  out  from  time  to 
time  over  the  water,  and  expecting  every  instant 
to  see  the  shadow  of  some  approaching  vessel. 
15 


22(5 


LOST    IN   THE    FO(J. 


m 


But  niidiiiglit  came,  and  Tom  at  length  tlionglit 
of  sleep.  The  sail  had  dried  thoroughly  through 
the  day  ;  so  now  he  used  it  once  more  as  a  coverlet, 
and,  folding  himself  in  it,  lie  reclined,  as  before, 
against  the  mossy  bank,  and  slept. 

On  iiwakinij:  tlio  next  day,  he  arose  and  looked 
ardund.  To  his  deep  disap])ointment,  he  could  see 
Dolhing.  There  was  a  fog  over  all  the  scene.  '^Fhe 
Avind  had  changed,  and  his  old  enemy  was  once 
more  besi(^ging  him.  It  was  not  so  thick,  indeed,  as 
it  ha<l  been,  beiiig  light  and  dry,  so  that  the  ground 
was  not  at  all  moislened;  but  still  the  view  was 
obscured,  so  that  no  vessel  could  be  seen  unless  it 
came  witinn  lialf  a  milo  ;  and  that  was  rather  closed' 
than  most  vessels  would  care  to  come  to  his  island. 

This  day  was  Sunday,  and  all  Tom's  plans  had 
to  be  deferred  until  tlie  following  day.  However, 
it  was  not  at  all  disajLTeeable  to  him  to  get  rid  of 
the  necessity  of  work  ;  and,  indeed,  never  Ixif'oi'o 
did  he  iully  a[)prociate  the  nature  of  the  Day  of 
Rest.  T!ie  rest  was  sweet  indeed  to  his  exhausted 
and  overworn  frame,  and  he  did  not  go  fai-  away 
irom  his  tire.  He  had  found  some  embers  still 
glowing  in  the  morning,  and  had  kindled  the  liiMi 
iuu'w  IVom  these,  without  drawing  any  more  upon 
his  precious  store  of  matches.  lie  resolved  now 
to  keep  th(*  coals  alivi^  all  the  tim(\  by  feeding  the 
fire  during  tho  day,  and  covering  it  up  with  ashes 
by  night. 

It  was   Sunday,  —  tho  Day  of  Rest,  —  and  Tom 


i 


SUNDAY,  THK  DAY  OF  REST. 


907 


felt  all  the   blcssodnoss  of  rest.     On  the  whole,  it 

turned  out  to  be  the  pleasantest  day  which  he  had 

known  since   he   left   the  schooner.     Left   now  to 

(juiet  reflection,  he  recalled  the  events  of  the  last 

week,  and  had  more  leisure   to  feel    thankful  over 

the    wonderful    safety    which     he    had    met    with. 

Even  now  on   the  island  he   was  not  without  his 

comforts.     He  had  food  and  warmth.     So,  on  the 

whole,  thougli  he  had   his  moments  of  sfidness,  yet 

the  sadness  was   driven  out  bv  cheerCulness.     It 

was    not   all    dismal.      The    words    of    that    po(Mn 

which   is  familiar  to  every  school-boy  rang  in  his 

ears : — 

*'  O,  Solitude,  whoro  are  II10  cliiirms 
That  saifos  have  seen  in  tii\'  face? 
Better  dwell  in  the  midst  of  alarms 
Than  reign  in  this  horrible  plaee." 


Yet  these  words  were  accompanied  and  coun- 
terbalanced by  the  more  pleasing  and  consoHng 
sentiments  of  otiiers,  which  on  this  day  accorded 
better  with  Tom's  mood:  — 


"There's  merey  in  every  plaei' ; 

And  mercy  —  encourajfing  thought ! 
Gives  even  alHiction  a  grace, 
And  reconciles  man  to  his  lot." 


Nothing  occurred  dui'ing  tlie  diiy  to  disturb  the 
(|uiet  of  the  island,  and  Tom  \\v\\{  to  Ix'd  cjirly 
tliat  night,  so  as  to  have  a,  long  shM'|>,  and  foiiily 
himself  for  the  labors  of  the   Uforrow.     1'lie  ashes 


LOST   m    THE   F0(}. 


wore  riik(Ml  carotiilly  rouiul  tlic  coals,  wliicli,  wlien 
Tom  waked  in  tlie  morning,  were  easily  kindled 


agani. 


Tie  was  up  early  on  that  IVIonday  morning.  He 
saw,  with  deep  disappointment,  that  the  fog  still 
covered  every  thing,  and  that  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing qnite  hrisk  from  the  south-west,  and  raising 
rather  n  heavy  sea.  Bnt  he  had  a  great  deal  to 
do  now,  and  to  this  he  turned  his  att(Mif'on. 

First  of  all,  he  had  to  finish  his  signal-stalf  and 
set  it  up.  ITe  was  \ory  much  troubled  about  the 
pi-o])er  material  for  a  flag,  'i'he  canvas  was  rather 
too  iieavy;  but  as  he  had  nothing  else,  he  had  to 
take  this.  ITe  fastened  a  bit  of  the  rope  to  the 
head  of  the  stalf,  so  as  to  form  a  loop,  and  through 
this  he  ran  a  piece  which  was  long  enough  to 
serve  for  halyards.  Thus  far  ho  had  not  used  up 
more  thsm  a  (piarter  of  the  coil  of  rope;  but  ho 
needed  all  that  was  left  for  other  purposes.  The 
next  thing  was  to  set  up  his  stalf.  To  do  this 
recpiired  much  labor.  He  had  already  selected 
the  place  which  sei^med  most  suitabh^  It  was  at 
the  extreme  point  of  a  tongue  of  land  which  pro- 
jected l)eside  the  brook,  and  only  a  litth^  distance 
iVom  his  resting-place.  Here  the  ground  was  soft  ; 
and  choosing  a  sharp  stone,  he  W(U-ked  diligently 
for  about  a  couple  of  hours,  until  at  length  he  suc- 
cccmIc^I  in  digging  a  hole  whi(di  was  about  eight(*(Mi 
inches  in  depth.  '^Phen  Im^  fastiuied  ropes  io  the 
staff,  where   the  pole  joined   it,  so  that  foui"  lines 


TOM    RAISES    A    SKJNAI.    OF    DISTRESS. 


to 


to 
up 

l»0 

The 

tC(l 

s  ;it 
nlly 

SIK*- 
t«MMl 
tllO 

lines 


crtiiio  down  liir  cuioiigli  t(t  servo  as  sttiNs.  TTaviiis^ 
done  this,  lie  inserted  the  end  of"  the  stall'  in  the 
lioh),  and  thrust  in  tlie  earth  all  aroun<l  it,  tranii)Iing 
it  in,  and  beating  it  down  as  tight  as  he  could  with 
a  stone.  After  this  he  i)roeured  )nie  sticks  from 
(he  drift-wood,  and,  shar[)ening  the  ends,  he  secured 
the  stays  by  fastening  them  to  these  sticks,  wdiich 
he  drove  into  the  ground.  The  staff  then  seemed 
to  be  as  secure  as  was  necessary.  It  only  remained 
now  to  hoist  up  his  flag;  and  this  he  did  without 
any  difliculty,  securing  it  at  half  mast,  so  that  it 
juight  serve  unmistakably  as  a  signal  of  distress. 

Upon  completing  this,  Tom  restt.M]  on  the  mound, 
and  from  that  distance  he  contemplated  the  signal 
with  a  great  deal  of  calm  and  ([uiet  satisfaction. 
It  was  his  own  device,  and  his  own  handiwork 
and  he  was  very  proud  of  it.  Ibit  he  did  not  allow 
himself  a  long  rest.  '^I'here  yet  remained  much  to 
be  done,  and  to  this  he  now  directed  his  attention. 

ITe  had  been  thinking,  during  his  last  employ- 
ment, upon  the  necessity  which  he  had  of  some 
shelter.  A  i)lan  had  suggested  itself  which  ho  felt 
confident  that  he  could  carry  into  execution  with- 
out  any  \(}ry  great  troul)lo.  The  fog  that  now  [)re- 
vailed,  and  which  was  far  dinerent  from  the  light 
mist  of  the  previous  day,  accompanied  also,  as  it 
was,  by  the  damp  south-west  wind,  made  some  sort 
of  a  shelter  imperatively  necessary,  and  that,  too, 
before  another  night.  To  pass  this  night  in  tho 
fog  w^ould  bo  bad  enough ;  but  if  it  should  luippon 


230 


T.OST    IN    THE   FOG. 


'IJiii;i; 


to  mill  cilso,  liis  situcition  would  ])c  misemhlo  in- 
dood. 

ll(j  now  set  out  lor  tlic  bojicli,  and  found,  witliout 
inucli  difliculty,  souio  pieces  of  wood  which  were 
necessary  to  his  pui'pose.  J>i-inginjj,-  tlicse  hack, 
lie  next  looked  about  lor  a  good  situation.  There 
was  a  rock  not  far  from  the  fire,  and  in  front  of 
this  was  a  smooth  spot,  where  the  land  was  Hat, 
and  covered  with  short  grass.  On  the  left  it 
sloped  to  tlie  brook.  This  seemed  to  him  to  be 
the  best  place  on  the  island.  It  was  sufficiently 
sheltered.  It  was  dry,  and  in  case  of  rain  the 
water  would  not  be  likelv  to  flood  it.  With  all 
these  it  also  })ossessed  the  advantage  of  being  suf- 
ficiently conspicuous  to  any  })assing  vessel  which 
might  be  attractc^d  by  the  signal-stalf.  Here,  then, 
Tom  determineil  to  erect  his  place  of  residence. 

riis  first  work  was  to  select  two  lon<r  and  slender 
})ieces  of  wood,  and  sliarpen  the  ends  of  them. 
Then  he  drove  each  of  them  into  the  ground  in 
such  a  way  tiiat  their  tops  crossed  one  another. 


rv 


These  he  l)ound  fast  together.  Two  other  stakes 
were  driven  into  the  ground,  and  secured  in  the 
same  wav,  about  six  or  seven  feet  oil'.  Another 
long  piece  of  scantling  avjis  then  placed  so  as  to 
pass  from  one  to  the  other  of  tlio  two  crossed 
sticks,  so  that  it  rested  upon  them.  This  last  Avas 
bound  tight  to  the  crossed  sticks,  and  thus  the 
whole  structure  formed  a  camp-shaped  frame. 
Over  this  Tom  now  threw  the  sail,  and  brought 


H 

^ 


o 
re 


TOM    PREPARES   HIS   CAMP.  231 

it  down  to  the  ground  on  citlior  side,  securing  it 
there  with  pegs.  At  the  back  of  the  camp  a  piece 
of  the  sail  was  folded  over  and  secured  so  as  to 
cover  it  in;  while  in  front  another  piece  of  the 
sail  hung  down  until  it  nearly  reached  the  ground. 
This  could  hang  down  at  night,  and  be  folded  over 
the  top  by  day.  Tom  now  tore  up  some  sods,  and 
laid  them  over  the  edge  of  the  canvas  on  each 
side,  where  it  touched  the  ground,  and  j)laced  on 
these  heavy  stones,  until  at  length  it  seemed  suf- 
ficiently protected  from  the  entrance  of  any  rain 
that  might  How  down  the  roof.  His  last  task  con- 
sisted in  collecting  a  large  quantity  of  moss  and 
ferns  from  the  woods,  which  he  strewed  over  the 
ground  inside,  and  heaped  up  at  one  end,  so  as  to 
form  a  soft  and  I'ragrant  bed.  When  this  was 
accomplished  the  camp  was  finished. 

It  had  taken  a  long  time,  and  when  at  last  the 
work  was  done,  it  began  to  grow  dark.  Tom  no- 
ticed this  with  surprise.  He  had  been  working 
so  incessantly  that  he  was  not  mindful  of  the  (light 
of  time,  and  now  the  day  was  done,  and  the  even- 
ing was  upon  him  before  he  was  aware.  But 
there  were  other  things  still  for  him  to  do  before 
he  could  rest  from  his  labors.  His  fire  was  just 
nickering  around  its  last  embers,  and  if  he  wished 
to  have  a  pleasant  light  to  cheer  the  solitude  and 
the  darkness  of  his  evening  hours,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  prepare  a  supply  of  fuel.  To  this  he 
attended  at  once,  and  brought  up  several  armfuls 


232 


LOST   IN    THE   FOG. 


i 


of  drift-wood  from  thu  beacli.  Pl;iciiig  tlicso  near 
the  fire,  he  kindled  it  up  afresli,  and  flung  upon  the 
rising  flames  a  generous  supply  of  fuel.  The  fires 
eaught  at  it,  and  crackled  as  they  spread  through  the 
dry  wood,  and  tossed  up  their  forked  tongues  on 
high,  till  in  tlie  dusk  of  evening  they  illuminated 
the  surrounding  scene  with  a  pleasant  liglit.  A 
few  more  armfuls  were  added,  and  tlien  the  work 
for  the  day  was  over.  That  work  had  been  very 
extensive  and  very  important.  It  had  secured  a 
means  of  communication  with  the  outer  world,  and 
had  also  formed  a  shelter  from  tlie  chill  night  air, 
the  fog,  and  the  storm.  It  was  with  a  very  natural 
pride  that  Tom  cast  his  eyes  around,  and  surveyed 
the  results  of  liis  ingenuity  and  his  industry. 

The  camp  opened  towards  tlie  fire,  from  which 
it  was  not  so  far  distant  but  that  Tom  could  attend 
to  it  without  any  very  great  inconvenience.  The 
lire  shone  pleasantly  before  him  as  he  sat  down  at 
his  evening  repast.  As  the  darkness  increased,  it 
threw  a  ruddier  glow  upon  all  the  scene  around, 
lighting  up  field  and  hill,  and  sending  long  streams 
of  radiance  into  the  fog  that  overhung  the  sea. 
Tom  had  prepared  an  uimsually  large  supply  of 
fuel,  this  evening,  for  the  express  purpose  of  burn- 
ing it  all  up  ;  partly  for  his  own  amusement,  and 
partly  in  tli  hope  that  it  might  meet  the  eyes  of 
some  passing  navigator.  It  was  his  only  hope. 
To  keep  his  signals  going  by  night  and  day  was 
the  surest  plan  of  efiecting  a  speedy  escape.     Who 


THOUGHTS  ABOUT  THE  ANTELOPE. 


233 


\  nil 


could  tell  what  might  be  out  on  the  ueighburiiig 
sen?  How  did  ho  know  but  that  the  Antelope 
might  be  somewhere  near  at  hand,  with  his  com- 
panions on  board,  cruising  anxiously  about  in 
search  after  the  missing  boat  ?  He  never  ceased 
to  think  that  they  were  following  after  him  some- 
where, and  to  believe  that,  in  the  course  of  their 
wanderings,  they  might  come  somewhere  within 
sight  of  him.  He  knew  that  they  would  never  give 
him  up  till  they  assuredly  knew  his  fate,  but  would 
follow  after  him,  and  set  other  vessels  on  the 
search,  till  the  whole  bay,  with  all  its  shores  and 
islands,  should  be  thoroughly  ransacked. 

Fortunate  was  it  for  him,  he  thought,  that  there 
was  so  large  a  supply  of  drift-wood  at  hand  on  tlie 
beach,  dry,  portable,  and  in  every  way  convenient 
for  use.  Thanks  to  this,  he  might  now  disperse 
the  gloom  of  dark  and  foggy  nights,  and  keep  up 
a  better  signal  in  the  dark  than  he  could  do  in  the 
light.  Thus  the  fuel  was  her«.ped  on,  and  the  fire 
flamed  up,  and  Tom  sat  near,  looking  complacently 
upon  the  brilliant  glow. 

Thus  far,  for  nearly  a  week,  he  had  fed  on  bis- 
cuit only;  but  now,  as  he  ate  hi  repast,  he  began 
to  think  that  it  was  a  very  monotonous  fare,  and  to 
wonder  whether  it  might  not  be  possible  to  find 
something  which  could  give  a  zest  to  his  repasts. 
The  biscuit  were  holding  out  well,  but  still  he  felt 
a  desire  to  husband  his  resources,  and  if  any  addi- 
tional food  could  in  any  way  be  procured,  it  would 


234 


LOST  IN   THE   FOG. 


not  only  be  a  rclisli,  but  would  also  lessen  bis  de- 
nuuid  upon  bis  one  sole  source  of  supply.  lie 
tboujbt  earnestly  upon  tlie  subject  of  fisli.  lie 
turned  bis  tbougbts  very  seriously  to  tbe  subject 
of  fisb-books,  and  tried  to  tbink  of  some  way  by 
wbicb  be  could  capture  some  of  tbe  fisb  witb  vvbicb 
tbese  waters  abounded.  T'at  tbis  idea  did  not 
seem  to  promise  mucli.  In  tbe  first  place,  be  could 
tbink  of  no  possible  way  in  wbicb  bo  could  procure 
any  serviceable  book ;  in  tbe  second  place,  even  if 
be  bad  a  book  and  line  all  ready  and  baited,  be  did 
not  see  bow  be  would  be  able  to  cast  it  witbin 
reacb  of  any  fisb.  His  boat  would  not  float  bim 
even  for  tbe  little  distance  tliat  was  required  to 
get  into  tbe  places  wbere  fisb  migbt  be.  He  could 
only  stand  upon  tbe  beacb  out  of  tbeir  reacb. 

But,  in  tbe  course  of  bis  tbougbts,  be  soon  per- 
ceived tbat  otlier  sources  of  food  were  possible  to 
bim  besides  tbe  fisb  tbat  were  caugbt  by  book 
and  line.  His  mind  reverted  to  tbe  populous  realm 
of  sbell-fisb.  Tbese  were  all  before  bim.  Round 
tbe  rocks  and  amid  tbe  sea-weed  tbere  certainly 
must  be  mussels.  At  low  tide,  amid  tbe  ledges 
and  tbe  sand,  tbere  surely  must  be  some  lobsters. 
Before  bim  tbere  was  an  extensive  mud  flat,  wbere 
tbere  ougbt  to  be  clams.  Here  Avas  bis  fire,  al- 
ways ready,  by  nigbt  and  by  day.  Wby  sbould  be 
not  be  able  to  make  use  of  tbat  fire,  not  only  for 
cbeering  bis  mind,  and  giving  him  warmtb,  and 
signaling  to  passers-by,  but  also  for  cooking  bis 
meals  ? 


SEARCH    FOR   SHELL-FISH. 


235 


This  wa.s  the  question  tluit  he  iisked  himself  as 
he  ate  his  biscuit.  He  could  not  see  why  he  should 
not  he  able  to  accomplish  this.  As  far  as  he  could 
see,  there  ought  to  be  plenty  of  shell-lish  of  vari- 
ous kinds  on  these  shores.  The  more  he  thought 
of  it,  the  more  probable  it  seemed.  IJe  determined 
to  solve  the  difticulty  as  soon  as  possible.  On  for- 
mer occasions  he  had  arranged  his  work  on  the 
evening  for  the  succeeding  day.  On  this  evening 
ho  marked  out  this  work  for  the  morrow,  and  ar- 
ranged in  his  mind  a  comprehensive  and  most  dili- 
gent search  for  shell-fisli,  which  should  embrace 
the  whole  circuit  of  the  island. 

AVitli  this  in  his  mind,  he  arranged  the  fire  as 
usual,  so  as  to  keej)  it  alive,  and  then  retired  to  his 
camp  for  the  night.  The  presence  of  a  roof  over 
his  head  was  grateful  in  the  extreme.  lie  let 
down  the  canvas  folds  over  the  entrance,  and  felt 
a  peculiar  sense  of  security  and  comfort.  The 
moss  and  ferns  wliich  he  had  heaped  up  w^ere 
luxuriously  soft  and  deliciously  fragrant.  Over 
these  he  stretched  his  wearied  limbs  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  and  soon  was  asleep. 

So  comfortable  was  his  bed,  and  so  secure  his 
shelter,  that  he  slept  longer  than  usual.  It  was 
late  when  he  awaked.  He  hurried  forth  and  looked 
around.  The  fog  still  rested  over  everything.  If 
possible  it  was  thicker  and  more  dismal  than  even 
I'll  liie  preceding  day.  To  his  surprise,  he  soon 
noli('0(l  tliat  it  had  been  raining  quite  heavily 
through  the  night.     Around,  in  many  places,  he 


236 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


saw  pools  of  water,  and  in  the  hollows  of  the  rocks 
he  saw  tlie  same.  This  couKl  only  have  boon  dune 
by  the  rain.  Going  back  to  his  camp,  he  saw  that 
the  canvas  was  quite  wet.  And  yi;t  the  rain  had 
all  rolled  off.  Not  a  drop  had  entered.  The  moss 
and  the  fern  inside  were  perfectly  dry,  and  he  had 
nut  the  slightest  feeiing  of  dampness  about  him. 
His  camp  was  a  complete  success. 

He  now  went  off  to  search  for  clams.  The  tide 
had  been  high  at  about  six  in  the  morning.  It  was 
now,  as  he  judged,  about  ten  or  eleven,  and  the 
water  was  quite  hnv.  Selecting  a  piece  of  shingle 
from  his  wood-pile,  he  walked  down  over  the  mud 
flat  that  extended  from  the  point,  and,  after  going 
a  little  distance,  he  noticed  the  holes  that  give  in- 
dications of  the  presence  of  clams  beneath.  Turn- 
ing up  the  sand,  he  soon  threw  out  some  of  tliem. 
He  now  dug  in  several  different  places,  and  obtained 
sufficient  for  the  day.  These  he  carried  back  to 
the  bank  in  triumph.  Then  he  stirred  up  his  fire, 
heaped  on  plenty  of  wood,  and  arranged  his  clams 
in  front  so  as  to  roast  them. 

In  spite  of  Mrs.  Pratt's  theories,  the  clams  were 
found  by  Tom  to  be  delicious,  and  gave  such  relish 
to  the  biscuit,  that  he  began  to  think  whether  he 
could  not  make  use  of  the  baling  dipper,  and  make 
a  clam  chowder. 

This  breakfast  was  a  great  success,  and  Tom  now 
confidently  expected  to  find  other  shell-fisli,  l>y 
means  of  which  his  resources  might  be  enlarged 
and  improved. 


SOLOMON'S  STORY  OF   HIS   ADVENTURES.        237 


XVII. 

Solomon^ s  solemn  Tale.  —  A  cosfhj  Lobster.  —  Off 
again.  —  Steam  WJiistles  of  all  Sizes.  —  A  noisy 
Harbor.  —  Arrival  Home.  —  No  News. 


^HE  shout  of  joy  uttered  by  those  on  the  top 
of  tlie  cliff  at  seeing  old  Solomon  safe  was 
responded  to  by  those  in  the  boat;  and  then, 
as  the  latter  went  on  her  way,  Captain  Corbet  set 
out  to  return  to  the  beach,  followed  by  Phil  and 
Pat.  Soon  they  were  all  reunited,  and,  the  boat 
being  landed,  they  returned  in  triumph  to  the 
Antelope. 

On  their  way  back,  Solomon  told  them  the  story 
of  his  adventures. 

"  Went  out,"  said  ho,  "  on  a  splorin  scursion,  cos 
I  was  termined  to  try  an  skewer  somethin  to  make 
a  dinnali  to  keep  up  de  sperrit  ob  dis  yali  party. 
Ben  ti;ouble  nuflf',  an  dat's  no  reason  wliy  we  should 
all  starb.  I  tought  by  de  looks  ob  tings  dar  was 
lobstas  somewhar  long  dis  yah  sho,  an  if  I  got  a 
chance,  I  knowed  I  could  get  'em.  Dar  was  lots 
ob  time  too,  ef  it  1  \dn't  ben  fur  dat  ar  pint ;  dat's 
what  knocked    me.     Lots   u'  lobstas  —  could    hab 


238 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


r"^": 


picked  lip  a  barl  full,  ony  Iiauii't  any  barl  to  i)ick 
up." 

"  Well,  but  how  did  you  happen  to  get  caught?  " 

"  Dat  ar's  jes  what  I'm  a  comin  to.  You  see,  I 
didn't  tink  "b  dat  ar  pint  when  1  went  up  de  slio, 
—  but  knowed  1  had  lots  ob  time;  ao  I  jes  tought 
I'd  make  sure  ob  de  best  ob  de  lobstas.  Wan't 
goin  to  take  back  any  common  lobstas,  —  bet  you 
dat,  —  notin  for  me  but  de  best,  —  de  bery  best 
ones  dar.  Dat  ar's  what  kep  me.  It  takes  a  heap 
ob  time  an  car  to  get  de  best  ones,  when  dar's  a 
crowd  lyin  about  ob  all  sizes,  an  de  water  comin 
in  too." 

"  But  didn't  you  sec  that  the  tide  was  coming 
up  to  the  point?  " 

"  Nebber  see  a  see,  —  not  a  see;  lookin  ober  dj 
lobstas  all  de  time,  an  mos  stractcd  wid  plcxity 
cos  I  couldn't  cide  bout  de  best  ones.  Dar  was 
lots  an  lots  up  dar  at  one  place,  dough  1  didn't  go 
fur,  —  but  of  I'd  gone  fur,  I'd  hal)  got  better  ones." 

"  ITow  far  did  }'ou  go?" 

"  Not  fur,  —  ony  short  distance,  —  <lidn't  want  to 
go  too  fur  away  for  i'eah  ob  not  gittin  back  in  time. 
An  so  I  started  to  come  back  pooty  soon,  an 
walked,  an  walked.  Las,  jes  as  I  got  to  de  i)int,  T 
rose  my  ole  head,  an  looked  straight  afore  me,  an 
thar,  dar  of  I  didn't  fine  myself  shut  in,  —  reglar 
j)rison,  —  mind  I  t(dl  you,  —  an  all  round  me  a  reg- 
lar cumforince  ob  water  an  rock,  widout  any  way 
ob  sciipo.  Tell  you  what,  if  dar  ebber  was  a  ole 
rat  in  a  trap,  I  was  at  dat  ar  casion." 


HE    CAPTUnKs;    T.onSTKHS. 


230 


JJ 


-'1 

an 
ole 


"  Couldn't  you  liavo  waded  tlirougli  it  before  it 
got  too  high  ?  " 

"  Waded  ?  Not  a  wade  ;  do  water  was  rough 
an  deep,  an  de  bottom  was  stones  dat  I'd  sli})pe(l 
oba  an  almost  broke  my  ole  head,  sides  bein 
drownded  as  dead  as  a  herrin.  Why,  Avliat  you 
tink  dis  ole  nigga's  made  ob?  I'm  not  a  steam 
injine,  nor  a  mowin  macliine,  nor  a  liib  boat.  I'm 
ony  a  ole  man,  an  shaky  in  do  legs  too,  —  mind  I 
tell  you." 

"  Well,  how  did  you  manage  it?  " 

"  Manage  !     Wliy,  I  didn't  manage  at  all." 

"  How  did  you  find  that  place  where  you  were 
sitting  ?  " 

"  Wasn't  settin.  I  was  tied  up  in  a  knot,  or  rolled 
up  into  a  ball.    Any  way,  I  wasn't  settin." 

"  Well,  how  did  you  fin(l  the  place?  " 

''  Wal,  1  jes  got  up  dar.  I  stood  on  de  sho 
till  de  water  drobc  me,  an  I  kep  out  ob  its  way 
till  at  las  I  found  myself  tied  up  do  way  you 
saw  me." 

"  Why  didn't  you  halloo  ?  " 

"  Hollar?     Didn't  I  hollar  like  all  possessed?  " 

"  Wo  didn't  hear  you." 

"  Wal,  dat  ar's  dredful  stcrious.  An  me  a  hol- 
larin  an  a  yellin  like  mad.  Tell  you  what,  1  felt  as 
of  I'd  bust  my  ole  lunidopen,  1  did  yell  that  hard." 

"  Couldn't  you  manage  to  climb  up  that  cliff?  " 

''  Dat  cliff?  Climb  up  ?  Me  ?  What !  mo  climb 
up  a  cliff?  an  dat  cliff?     Why,  I  couldn't  no  more 


240 


LOST   IN  THE   FOCt. 


climb  up  dat  ar  cliff  dan  I  could  fly  to  de  moon.  No, 
sail.  Much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  wliar  I  was,  out  ob 
de  water.    Dat  was  enough." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  we  walked  two  miles  up 
the  shore  ?  " 

"  Two  miles  !  Two  !  De  sakes,  now,  chiPen  I 
did  you,  railly  ?  Ef  I'd  a  ony  knowed  you  war  a 
comin  so  near,  wouldn't  I  a  veiled  ?  I  bet  I 
would." 

"  Why,  you  didn't  think  we'd  have  left  you." 

"  Lef  me  ?  Nebber.  But  den  I  didn't  tink  you'd 
magine  any  ting  was  wrong  till  too  late.  What  I 
wanted  was  help,  den  an  dar.  De  trouble  was, 
when  you  did  come,  you  all  made  dat  ar  circum- 
bendibus, an  trabelled  clean  an  clar  away  from  me." 

"  We  thought  at  first  you  could  not  be  so  near 
the  point." 

"  But  de  pint  was  do  whole  difficulty.  Dat's  de 
pint." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  you've  saved  the  lobsters." 

"  Yah  !  yah  !  yah  !  Yes.  Bound  to  sabe  dem 
dar.  Loss  my  ole  hat,  an  nearly  loss  my  ole  self; 
but  still  I  hung  on  to  dom  dar  lobstas.  Tell  you 
what  it  is  now,  dey  come  nigh  onto  bein  de  dearest 
lobstas  you  ebber  eat.  I'be  done  a  good  deal  in 
de  way  ob  puttin  myself  out  to  get  a  dinna  at  odd 
times  for  you,  chil'cn  ;  butdis  time  T  almost  put  my- 
self out  ob  dis  mortial  life.  So  when  you  get  your 
iiinnns  to-day,  you  may  tink  on  what  dat  ar  diuna 
come  nigh  to  costiu." 


•BOUND    TO   MAKE   A    SHOW. 


241 


le 


in 


"  I  wonder  that  you  held  on  to  them  so  tight, 
when  they  brouglit  you  into  such  danger." 

'' ITole  on?  Why,  dat  ar's  de  berry  reason  why 
I  did  liole  on.  Wliat,  let  go  ob  dem  arter  all  my 
trouble  on  dat  count?  No.  1  was  bound  to  hab 
somethin  to  show  whenebber  I  got  back,  if!  cbber 
^id  get  back  ;  and  so  here  I  am,  all  alibe,  an  a 
bringin  my  lobstas  wid  me." 

"  Well,  Solomon,"  said  Bart,  in  a  kindly  tone, 
"old  man,  the  lobsters  have  come  near  costing  us 
pretty  dear,  and  we  felt  bad  enough,  I  can  tell  you, 
when  wo  went  up  there  along  the  shore  calling  for 
you  and  getting  no  answer." 

''  What,  you  did  car  for  de  ole  man,  Mas'r  Bart 
■ — did  you?  "said  Solomon,  in  a  ti'cmulous  voice. 
Tears  started  to  his  eyes  as  he  sjiid  it,  and  a;l 
power  of  saying  anything  more  seemed  to  depart 
from  him.  He  fell  back  beliind  the  others,  and 
walked  on  for  the  rest  of  the  way  in  silence,  but  at 
times  casting  upon  Bart  glance;}  that  spoke  vol- 
umes, and  talking  to  himself  in  inaudible  tones. 

In  this  way  they  soon  reached  the  wharf  where 
the  scliooner  was  lying. 

Tlie  first  thing  that  they  noticed  was,  that  the 
schooner  was  aground.  The  tide  had  gone  out  too 
fiir  lor  her  to  float  away,  and  consecpiently  there 
WMs  no  hope  of  resuming  their  voyage  for  that 
day. 

"  We're  in  for  it,  captain,"  said  Bruce. 
16 


242 


LOST    IN   THE   FOG. 


"  Yes ;  I  felt  afoard  of  it,"  said  tlic  captain. 
"  We've  ffot  to  wait  hero  till  the  next  tide." 

"  We'll  leave  to-night,  of  course." 

*'  0,  yes.  We  must  get  off  at  the  night's  tide, 
and  drop  down  the  bay." 

"  ITow  far  had  we  better  go  ?  " 

"  Wal,  I  ben  a  thinkin  it  all  over,  an  it's  mv 
opinion  that  we'd  better  go  to  St,  John  next.  Wo 
may  hear  of  him  there,  an  ef  he  don't  turn  up  we 
can  send  out  some  more  vessels,  an  give  warnin 
that  he's  astray  on  the  briny  biller." 

"At  what  time  will  we  be  able  to  leave?" 

"  Wal,  it'll  not  be  high  tide  till  near  one  o'clock, 
but  we  can  git  off  ef  thar's  a  wind  a  leetle  before 
midnight." 

"Do  you  think  the  wind  will  hold  on?" 

The  captain  raised  his  head,  and  looked  at  the 
sky ;  then  he  looked  out  to  sea,  and  then  lie  re- 
mained silent  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  Wal,"  said  he,  at  last,  slowly  and  thoughtfully, 
"  it'll  take  a  man  with  a  head  as  long  as  a  boss  to 
answer  that  thar.  It  mought  hold  on,  an  then  agin 
it  moughtn't."  * 

"  At  any  rate,  I  suppose  wo  can  drift." 

"0,  yes;  an  ef  the  wind  doosn't  come  round  too 
strong,  wo  can  git  nigh  down  pooty  close  to  St. 
John  by  mornin." 

"  We'll  run  down  with  the  tid^o." 

"  Percisely." 

"  Well,   I   suppose   we'll   have   \o  put  the   time 


TIED   UP   IN   QUACO. 


243 


the 
r(3- 


agm 


time 


tlirougli  the  best  way  we  can,  and  try  to  bo 
patient.  Only  it  seems  hard  to  be  delayed  so 
much.  First  there  was  the  fog,  which  made  our 
search  useless ;  and  now,  when  there  comes  a 
brig-lit  day,  when  we  can  see  where  we're  going, 
liere  we  are  tied  up  in  Quaco  all  day  and  all 
night." 

"  It  doos  seem  hard,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  grave- 
ly, "  terrible  hard ;  an  of  1  owned  a  balloon  that 
could  rise  this  here  vessel  oil'  the  ground,  an  con- 
vey her  through  the  air  to  her  nat'ral  element,  I'd 
hev  it  done  in  live  minutes,  an  we'd  all  proceed  to 
walk  the  waters  like  things  of  life.  I>ut  1  don't 
hapj)en  to  own  a  balloon,  an  so  thar  you  air. 

'^  But,  boys,"  continued  the  caj)tain,  in  a  r-;olemn 
voice,  elevating  his  venerable  chin,  and  regai'ding 
them  with  a  patriarchal  smile,  —  '^  boys,  don't  begin 
to  go  on  in  that  thar  old  despondent  strain.  Me- 
thinks  I  hear  some  on  you  a  rc[)inin,  an  a  fret- 
tin,  cos  we're  stuck  here  hard  an  Hist.  Don't  do  it, 
boys;  take  my  advice,  an  don't  do  it.  Bear  in 
mind  the  stirrin  an  memiorable  events  of  this  hero 
mornin.  See  what  a  calamity  was  a  threatenin  us. 
Why,  I  declare  to  you  all,  thar  was  a  time  when  T 
expected  to  see  our  aged  friend  Solomon  no  more 
in  the  flesh.  You  could  not  tell  it  by  my  manner, 
for  I  presarved  a  calm  an  collected  dumeanour; 
but  yet,  I  tell  you,  underneath  all  that  icy  calm  an 
startlin  good-natur  of  my  attitooil,  I  concealed  a 
heart  that  bet  with  dark  despair.    At  that  moment, 


t' 


i'-.. 


i^i 


244 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


when  wc  in  our  wanderins  had  readied  the  furthest 
extremity  that  we  attained  onto,  I  tell  you  my 
blood  (Viz,  an  my  liar  riz  in  horrt)r  !  Methought  it 
were  all  up  with  Solomon  ;  and  when  I  see  his  hat, 
it  seemed  to  me  jest  as  though  I  was  a  regardin  witli 
despairin  eye  his  tumestun  whereon  war  graven  by 
no  inortial  hand  the  solemn  an  despaii'in  epigram, 
'  H'lc  jacct  I ' 

"  So  now,  my  friends,"  continue  I  the  captain,  as 
he  brushed  a  tear-drop  from  his  eye,  "  let  us  con- 
terrol  our  feelins.  Let  us  be  calm,  and  hope  for  the 
best.  When  Solomon  took  his  de])arto()r,  an  was 
among  the  niissin,  I  thought  that  an  evil  fortin  was 
a  berroodin  over  us,  and  {d)()ut  to  consume  us. 
But  that  derream  air  past.  Solomon  is  oust  more 
j\mong  the  eatables.  lie  cooks  agin  the  mortial 
repast.  He  lives  !  So  it  will  be  with  our  young 
friend  who  has  so  mysteriously  drifted  away  from 
(mr  midst.  Cheer  u|),  I  say  !  Them's  my  senti- 
ment. He'll  come  to,  an  turn  up,  all  alive  —  right 
side  up  —  with  care,  —  C.  0.  D.,  —  O.  K.,  —  to  be 
shaken  before  taken,  —  marked  and  numbered  as 
per  margin,  — jest  as  when  shipped,  in  good  order 
an  condition,  on  board  the  schooner  Antelope,  Cor- 
bet master,  of  Grand  Pre." 

These  words  of  Captain  Corbet  had  a  very  good 
effect  upon  the  boys.  They  had  already  felt  very 
much  cheered  by  the  escape  of  Solomon,  and  it 
seemed  to  them  to  be  a  good  omen.  Jf  Solomon 
Lad  escaped,  so  also  miglit  l^om,     And,  as  their 


BECIN   TO   BE   MORE   SANGUINE. 


2i5 


•tial 


:o  bo 
d  as 
trdor 


o 

very 

,11(1  it 

oiiu>i» 

their 


anxiety  on  Solomon's  account  had  all  hccii  dis- 
pelled by  his  restoration,  so  also  might  they  liopt; 
that  their  anxiety  about  "^J'om  would  be  dis[)cllcd. 
True,  he  had  been  lost  to  them  for  a  niucli  longer 
time,  and  his  absence  was  certainly  surrounded 
by  a  more  terrible  obscurity  than  any  which  had 
been  connected  with  that  of  Solomon.  Yet  this 
one  favorable  circumstance  served  to  wlu»w  them 
that  all  might  not  be  so  dark  as  they  had  ieared. 
Thus,  therefore,  they  began  to  be  more  sanguine, 
and  to  hope  that  when  they  reached  St.  John,  some 
tidings  of  the  lost  boy  might  bo  brought  to  them. 

Solomon's  exertions  towards  giving  them  a  din- 
ner were  on  this  day  crowned  with  greater  suc- 
cess than  had  been  experienced  for  some  days 
past.  Their  exertions  had  given  them  an  aj»petite, 
and  they  were  able  to  eat  heartily  for  the  first 
time  since  Tom's  departure. 

The  rest  of  the  day  passed  very  slowly  with 
them.  They  retired  early,  and  slept  until  mid- 
night. At  that  time  they  waked,  and  went  (jii 
deck,  when  they  had  the  extreme  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  vessel  get  under  way.  A  moderate 
breeze  was  blowing,  Avhich  was  favorable,  and 
though  the  tide  was  not  yet  in  their  favor,  yet  the 
wind  was  sufHcient  to  bear  them  out  into  the  bay. 
Then  the  boys  all  went  below  again,  full  of  hope. 
The  night  passed  away  (piietly,  and  without  any 
incident  whatever.  They  all  slept  soundl}',  and 
the  dreams  that  camo  to  them  were  pleasant  ratiier 
than  otherwise. 


246 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


Awaking  in  tlie  morning  by  daylight,  tliey  all 
hurried  up  on  dock,  and  encountored  there  a  new 
disappointment ;  for  all  around  them  iliey  saw  again 
the  hated  presence  of  the  fog.  The  wind  also  had 
died  away,  and  the  vessel's  sails  Happed  idly 
against  her  masts. 

"Where  are  we  now?"  asked.  Bruce,  in  a  de- 
spondent tone. 

"  Wal,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  as  nigh  as  I  can 
reckon,  we're  two  or  three  miles  outside  of  St. 
John  harbor." 

"  How  is  the  tide  ?  " 

"  Wal,  it's  kine  o'  agin  us,  jest  now." 

"  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  wind." 

"  Not  much." 

"'  Shall  we  get  into  St.  John  to-day  ?  " 

"  Wal,  I  kine  o'  think  we'll  manage  it." 

"  How  soon  ?  " 

"  Wal,  not  much  afore  midday.  You  see  we're 
driftin  away  jest  now." 

"  Don't  you  intend  to  anchor  till  the  next  rise  of 
tide  ?  " 

"  0,  yes  ;  in  about  ten  minutes  we'd  ought  to  be 
about  whar  I  want  to  anchor." 

At  this  disheartening  condition  of  affairs  the  boys 
sank  once  more  into  a  state  of  gloom.  In  about 
ten  minutes,  as  Captain  Corbet  said,  the  schooner 
was  at  anchor,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
wait. 

"  We'll  run  in  at  turn  o'  tide,"  said  he. 


THE    ANTELOPE   UNDER   WAY. 


247 


Breakfast  came,  and  passed.  The  meal  was  eat- 
en  in  silence.  Then  they  went  on  deck  again, 
fretting  and  chafing  at  the  long  dehiy.  Nut  much' 
was  said,  but  the  boys  stood  in  silence,  trying  to 
see  through  the  thick  fog. 

''It  was  so  fine  when  we  left,"  said  Bart,  "  that 
1  thought  we'd  have  it  all  the  wav." 

"  Wal,  so  we  did  —  pooty  much  all ;  but  then,  you 
see,  about  four  this  mornin  we  run  straight  into  a 
fog  bank." 

"  Has  the  wind  changed  ?  " 

"  Wal,  thar  don't  seem  jest  now  to  be  any  wind 
to  speak  of,  but  it  kine  o'  strikes  me  that  it's  some- 
thin  like  southerly  weather.     Hence  this  here  fog." 

After  a  few  hours  the  vessel  begfin  to  get  under 
way  again;  and  now,  too,  there  arose  a  light  breeze, 
which  favored  them.  As  they  went  on  they  heard 
the  long,  regular  blast  of  a  steam  whistle,  which 
howled  out  a  mournful  note  from  time  to  time. 
Together  with  this,  they  heard,  occasionally,  the 
blasts  of  fog  horns  from  unseen  schooners  in  their 
neighborhood,  and  several  times  t'^y  could  dis- 
tinguish the  rush  of  some  steamer  past  them, 
whose  whistle  sounded  sharply  in  their  ears. 

As  they  drew  nearer,  these  varied  sounds  became 
louder,  and  at  length  the  yell  of  one  giant  whistle 
sounded  close  beside  them. 

"  We're  a  enterin  o'  the  harbure,"  said  Captain 
Corbet. 

Hours  passed  away  from  the  time  the  Antelope 


248  LOST   IN   THE    FOG. 

raised  anclior  until  slic  reached  the  wliarf.  In 
passing  up  tlie  liarltor,  the  sliadowy  forms  of  ves- 
sels at  anchor  became  distinguishaljle  amid  tlie 
gloom,  and  in  front  of  them,  as  they  neared  the 
wharf,  there  arose  a  forest  of  masts  belonging  to 
schooners.  It  was  now  midday.  Suddenly  there 
arose  a  fearful  din  all  around.  It  was  the  shriek  of 
a  large  number  of  steam  whistles,  and  seemed  to 
come  up  from  every  side. 

"  Is  that  for  the  fog?  "  asked  Bruce. 

•'  0,  no,  "  said  Bart ;  "  those  are  the  saw-mills 
whistling  for  twelve  o'clock." 

The  boys  had  already  completed  their  prepara- 
tions for  landing,  and  had  changed  their  eccentric 
clothing  for  apparel  which  was  more  suited  to  mak- 
ing their  appearance  in  society.  Bart  had  insisted 
that  they  should  go  to  his  house,  and  wait  until 
they  might  decide  what  to  do  ;  and  the  boys  had  ac- 
cepted his  hospitable  invitation. 

They  stepped  on  shore  full  of  hope,  not  doubt- 
ing that  they  would  hear  news  of  Tom.  They  had 
persuaded  themselves  that  he  had  been  picked  up 
by  some  vessel  which  was  coming  down  the  bay, 
and  had  probably  been  put  ashore  here ;  in  which 
case  they  knew  that  he  would  at  once  communi- 
cate with  Bart's  people.  They  even  thought  that 
Tom  would  be  there  to  receive  them. 

"  Of  course  he  will  be,"  said  Bart ;  "  if  he  did  turn 
up,  they'd  make  him  stay  at  the  house,  you  know ; 
and  he'd  know  that  we  fellows  would  coine  down 


NO   NEWS   OF   TOM. 


249 


here  in  the  hope  of  hearing  about  liim.     So  we'll 
find  him  there  all  right,  after  all.     Iliinah  !  " 

But,  on  reaching  his  home,  J^art's  joyous  meet- 
ing with  his  family  was  very  much  marred  by  the 
deep,  dark,  and  bitter  disappointment  that  awaited 
him  and  his  compjinions. 

They  knew  nothing  whatever  about  Tom. 

Bart's  father  was  shocked  at  the  story.  He  knew 
that  no  boy  had  been  picked  up  adrift  in  the  bay 
during  the  past  week.  Such  an  event  would  have 
been  known.  He  felt  exceedingly  anxious,  and  af 
once  instituted  a  search  among  the  coasting  ves- 
sels. The  search  was  a  thorough  one,  but  resulted 
in  nothing.  There  was  no  one  who  had  seen  any- 
thing of  a  drifting  boat.  All  reported  thick  ihg  m 
the  bay. 

The  result  of  this  search  plunged  Bart  and  his 
friends  into  their  former  gloom. 

Other  searches  were  made.  Inquiries  were 
sent  by  telegraph  to  difierent  places,  but  without 
result. 

The  fate  of  the  missing  boy  now  became  a  se- 
rious question. 

As  for  Bart  and  his  friends,  they  were  incon- 
solable. 


250  *K  LOST   IN   THE   FUG. 


I 

I 


XVIII. 

Down  the  Bmj.  — Drifting  and- Andiorimj.  — In 
the  Dark,  morally  and  physlcalUj.  —  Eastport,  the 

■  jumpimj'Off  Place.  —  Grand  Manan.  —  Wonder- 
ful Skill  —  Navigating  in  the  Fog.  —  A  Flange 
from  Darkness  into  Light,  and  from  Light  into 
Darkness. 

f|»T  was  Saturday  when  Bart  reached  home.  As 
4C  much  was  done  on  that  day  as  possible.  Bart 
•*•  was  in  the  extreme  of  wretchedness,  and  so 
eager  was  he  to  resume  the  search  for  his  friend, 
that  liis  father  gave  his  permission  for  him  to  start 
off  again  in  the  Antelope.  The  otl)or  boys  also 
were  to  go  with  him.  They  determined  to  scour 
the  seas  till  they  found  Tom,  or  had  learned  his 

fate. 

Mr.  Darner  also  assured  Bart  that  he  would  take 
the  matter  in  hand  himself,  and  would  send  out 
two  schooners  to  go  about  the  bay.  In  addition  to 
this,  he  would  telegraph  to  different  places,  so  that 
the  most  extensive  search  possible  might  be  insti- 
tuted. Every  part  of  the  coast  should  be  ex- 
plored,  and  even  the  islands  should  be  visited. 


THE  ANTELOPE  ANCHORS  DOWN  THE  BAY.   251 

AH  this  gavo  sis  iiiiich  coiisolatiuii  to  Jjiirt  and 
his  liiuiids  as  it  was  possible  for  tlicin  to  feel  un- 
der the  circumstances. 

As  much  as  possible  was  done  on  Saturday,  but 
the  next  day  was  an  idle  one,  as  far  as  the  search 
was  concerned.  Bart  and  the  buys  waited  with 
great  impatience,  and  finally  on  Monday  niurning 
they  left  once  more  in  the  Antelope.  It  was  about 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  tide  was  in  their 
favor,  and,  though  there  was  ajiead  wind,  yet  be- 
fore the  turn  of  tide  they  were  anchored  a  good 
distance  down  the  bay. 

"  My  idee  is  this,"  said  Captain  Corbet.  "  I'll 
explore  the  hull  bay  in  search  of  that  driftin  boy. 
I'll  go  down  this  side,  cross  over,  and  come  up  on 
t'other.  We'll  go  down  lie  re  first,  an  not  cross 
over  till  we  get  as  fur  as  Quoddy  Head.  I  think, 
while  we  air  down  tliar,  I'll  call  at  Eastport  an  ask 
a  few  questions.  But  I  must  say  it  seems  a  leetle 
too  bad  to  have  the  fog  go  on  this  way.  If  this 
here  had  ony  happened  a  fortnight  ago,  we'd  have 
had  clear  weather  an  fair  winds.  It's  too  bad,  I 
declar." 

They  took  advantage  of  the  next  tide  to  go 
down  still  farther,  and  by  twelve  o'clock  on  Mon- 
day night  they  were  far  down.  Since  leaving  St. 
John  they  had  seen  nothing  whatever,  but  they 
had  heard  occasionally  the  fog  horns  of  wandering 
schooners,  and  once  they  had  listened  to  the  yell 
of  a  steamer's  whistle. 


LOST    IN    THE   FOG. 


I've  alius  said/'  remarked  Captain  Corbet, 
"  that  in  navigatin  this  here  bay,  tides  is  more  im- 
portant than  winds,  and  anchors  is  more  im^^ortant 
than  sails.  That's  odd  to  seafarin  men  that  ain't 
ac(piainted  with  these  waters,  but  it  air  a  oncon- 
trovartible  fact.  Most  of  the  distressin  casooalties 
that  happen  hereabouts  occur  from  a  ignorance  of 
this  on  the  part  of  navigators.  They  ivill  pile  on 
sail.  Now,  in  clar  weather  an  open  sea,  pile  it  on, 
1  say ;  but  in  waters  like  these,  whar's  the  use  ? 
Why,  it's  flyin  clar  in  the  face  of  Providence. 
Now  look  at  me  —  do  I  pile  on  sail  ?  Not  me. 
Catch  me  at  it !  AVhen  I  can  git  along  without, 
why,  1  git.  At  the  same  time,  I  don't  think  you'll 
find  it  altogether  for  the  good  of  your  })recious 
health,  boys,  to  bo  a  movin  about  here  in  the  fog  at 
midnight.  Better  go  below.  You  can't  do  no 
good  a  settin  or  a  standin  up  here,  squintin 
through  a  darkness  that  might  be  felt,  an  that's  as 
thick  as  any  felt  I  ever  saw.  So  take  my  advice, 
an  go  below,  and  sleep  it  off." 

It  was  impossible  to  gainsay  the  truth  of  Cai)taln 
Corbet's  remarks,  and  as  it  was  really  l  idnight, 
and  the  darkness  almost  as  thick  as  he  said,  the 
boys  did  go  below,  and  managed  to  get  to  sleep  in 
about  a  minute  and  a  half  after  their  heads  touched 
tlie  pillows. 

Before  they  were  awake  on  the  following  day 
the  anchor  was  hoisted,  and  the  Antelope  was  on 
lior  way  again. 


AGAIN   UNDER   WAY. 


253 


"  ITero  WG  iur,  boys/'  said  the  captain,  as  tliey 
caine  on  deck,  "  iiiidor  way  —  tlic  Antelope  on  lier 
windin  way  over  the  mounting  wave,  a  hereasting 
of  the  foamin  biller  like  all  possessed.  I  prophesy 
for  this  day  a  good  time  as  long  as  the  tide  lasts." 

"  Do  you  think  we'll  get  to  Eastport  harbor  with 
this  tide?" 

"Do  I  think  so?  —  I  know  it.  I  feel  it  down 
to  my  butes.  Eastport  harbure  ?  Yea  !  An  arter 
that  we  hev  all  plain  sailin." 

"  Why,  won't  the  fog  last?" 

"  J  don't  car  for  the  fog.  Arter  we  get  to  East- 
port  harl)ure  wo  cease  goin  down  the  bay.  Wo 
then  cross  over  an  steal  up  the  other  side.  Then 
it's  {ill  our  own.  If  the  fog  lasts,  why,  the  wind'll 
last  too,  an  wo  can  go  up  flyin,  all  sails  set;  an  I'll 
reniHve  from  my  mind,  for  the  time  bein,  any  preju- 
dyco  that  I  have  agin  wind  an  sails." 

"  Do  you  intend  to  go  ashore  at  P]astport  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  a  short  time  —  jest  to  make  inquiries. 
It  will  be  a  consolation,  you  know." 

"  Of  course." 

"  Then  I'll  up  sail,  an  away  we'll  go,  irrcwspcc- 
tive  of  tides,  across  the  bay." 

By  midday  the  captain  informed  them  that  they 
were  in  P^astport  harbor. 

"  See  thar,"  said  he,  as  he  pointed  to  a  headland 
with  a  light-house.  "  That  thar  is  the  entrance. 
They  do  call  this  a  [)()otyish  ])lace ;  but  as  it's  this 
thick,  you  won't  hev  much  cha;tce  to  sei^  it.  Don't 
you  want  to  go  ashore  an  walk  about?" 


254  LOST   IN  THE  FOG. 

"  Not  if  we  can  help  it.  Of  course  we'll  have 
to  ask  after  poor  Tom,  but  we  haven't  any  curi- 
osity." 
J.  "  Wal,  p'aps  not  —  ony  thar  is  people  that  find 
this  a  dreadful  cur'ous  place.  It's  got,  as  I  siJd, 
a  pootyish  harbure  ;  but  tliat  ain't  the  grand  attrac- 
tion. The  grand  attraction  centres  in  a  rock  that's 
said  to  be  the  eastest  place  in  the  noighboriu  re- 
public,—  in  short,  as  they  call  it,  the  'jumpin-olf 
place.'  You'd  better  go  an  see  it ;  ony  you  needn't 
jump  off,  unless  you  like." 

Sailing  up  the  fearbor,  the  fog  grew  light  enough 
lor  them  to  see  the  shore.  The  town  lay  in  ratiier 
an  imposing  situation,  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  which 
was  crowned  by  a  fort.  A  large  number  of  vessels 
lay  about  at  the  wharves  and  at  anchor.  Here 
they  went  ashore  in  a  boat,  but  on  making  inrpiir- 
ies  could  gain  no  information  about  Tom  ;  nor  could 
they  learn  anything  which  gave  them  the  slightest 
encouragement. 

II  We've  got  to  wait  here  a  while  so  as  to  dcvar- 
sefy  the  time.  Suppose  we  go  an  jump  oft'?"  said 
the  captain. 

The  boys  assented  to  this  in  a  melancholy  man- 
ner, and  the  captain  led  the  way  through  the  town, 
till  at  last  ho  halted  at  the  extreme  east  end. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "you  behold  the  last  extremity 
of  a  great  an  mighty  nation,  that  spreads  IVom  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  an  from  the  (lulf  of  Mcxiky 
to  the  very  identical  spot  that  you  air  now  a  occy* 


WEIGHING    ANCHOR. 


255 


pyiri  of.  It  air  a  celebrated  spot,  an  this  here  air 
a  memorable  momient  in  your  youthful  lives,  if  you 
did  but  know  it." 

There  was  nothing  very  striking  about  this  place, 
except  the  fact  which  Captain  Corbet  had  stated. 
Its  appearance  was  Dot  very  imposing,  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  was  not  without  a  certain  wild  beau- 
ty. Before  them  spread  the  waters  of  the  bay, 
with  islands  half  concealed  in  mist ;  while  imme- 
diately in  front,  a  steep,  rocky  bank  went  sheer 
down  for  some  thirty  or  forty  feet  to  the  beach 
below.  "^ 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  captain,  "  that  bein  Pil- 
grims, it  air  our  dooty  to  jump  ;  but  as  it  looks  a 
leetle  rocky  down  thar,  I  think  we'd  best  defer  that 
to  another  opportoonity." 

Returning  to  the  schooner,  they  weighed  anchor, 
set  sail,  ond  left  the  harbor.  On  leaving  if,  they 
did  not  go  back  the  way  they  had  come,  but  passed 
through  a  narrow  and  very  picturescjue  channel, 
which  led  them  by  a  much  shorter  route  into  the 
bay.  On  their  left  were  wooded  hills,  an'd  on  their 
right  a  little  village  on  the  slope  of  a  hill,  upon 
whose  crest  stood  a  church.  * 

Outside  the  fog  lay  as  thick  as  ever,  and  info 
this  they  plunged.  Soon  the  monotonous  gray 
veil  of  mist  closed  all  around  them.  But  now  their 
progress  was  more  satisfactory,  for  they  were 
crossing  the  bay,  and  the  wind  was  abeam. 

"  Are  you  going  sfraight  across  to  Nova  Scotia 
now  ?  "  asked  Bart. 


25G 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


"  Wal,  yes ;  kine  o'  straight  across,"  was  the  re- 
ply ;  "  ony  on  our  way  we've  got  to  call  at  a  cer- 
tain place,  an  contenoo  our  investergations." 

"  What  place  is  that  ?  " 

"  It's  the  Island  of  Grand  Manan  —  a  place  that  I 
allers  feel  the  greatest  respect  for.  On  that  thar 
island  is  that  celebrated  fog  mill  that  I  told  you 
of,  whar  they  keep  grindin  night  an  day,  in  south- 
erly weather,  so  as  to  keep  up  the  supply  of  fog  for 
old  Fundy.  Whatever  we'd  do  without  Grand 
Manan  is  more'n  I  can  say." 

"  Is  the  island  inhabited?"  asked  Bruce. 

''  Inhabited  ?  0,  dear,  yas.  Thar's  a  heap  o'  peo- 
ple thar.  It's  jest  possible  that  a  driftin  boat  might 
git  ashore  thar,  an  ef  so  we'll  know  pooty  soon." 

''  How  far  is  it  ?  " 

"  (),  ony  about  seven  or  eight  mile." 

"  We'll  be  there  in  an  hour  or  so,  then  ?  " 

"  Wal,  not  so  soon.  You  see,  we've  got  to  go 
round  it." 

"Around  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Cos  thar  ain't  any  poppylation  on  this  side,  an 
we've  got  to  land  on  t'other." 

"  Why  are  there  no  people  on  this  side  ?  " 

"  Cos  thar  ain't  no  harbures.  The  cliffs  air  six 
Imndred  feet  high,  and  the  hull  shore  runs  straight 
on  for  ever  so  fur  without  a  break,  except  two 
triflin  coves." 


WHALE   COVE. 


257 


"  How  is  it  oil  tlie  other  side?  " 

*'■  Wal,  the  east  side  ain't  a  bad  place.  The  shore 
is  easier,  an  tluir's  liarbures  an  anchorages.  Thar's 
a  place  they  call  Whale  Cove,  whar  I'm  goin  to 
land,  an  see  if  I  can  hear  anythin.  The  people  air 
ony  fishers,  an  they  ain't  got  much  cultivation ;  but 
it's  mor'en  likely  that  a  driftiu  boat  might  touch 
thar  somewhar." 

Tlie  Antelope  pursued  her  course,  but  it  was  as 
much  as  three  hours  before  she  reached  her  desti- 
nation. They  dropped  anchor  then,  and  landed. 
The  boys  had  already  learned  not  to  indulge  too 
readily  in  hope  ;  but  when  they  made  their  inqui- 
ries, and  found  tlie  same  answer  meeting  them  here 
which  they  had  received  in  other  places,  they 
could  not  avoid  feeling  a  fresh  pang  of  disappoint- 
ment and  discourac-ement. 

"  Wal,  we  didn't  git  much  good  out  of  this 
place,"  said  Captain  Corbet.  "  I'm  sorry  tliat  we 
have  sech  a  arrand  as  ourn.  Ef  it  warn't  for  that 
we  could  spend  to-night  here,  an  to-morry  I'd 
take  you  all  to  see  the  fog  mill ;  but,  as  it  is,  I 
rayther  think  I  won't  linger  hero,  but  perceed  on 
our  way." 

"  Where  do  we  go  next  —  to  Nova  Scotia?" 

"  Wal,  not  jest  straight  across,  l)nt  kino  o'  slant- 
in.  We  head  now  for  Digby  ;  that's  about  straight 
opposite  to  St.  John,  an  it's  as  likely  a  place  as  any 
to  make  incpiiries  at." 

"  How  long  will  it  be  before  we  get  there?" 
17 


258 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


"  Wal,  some  time  to-morry  mornin.  To-night 
we've  got  nothin  at  all  to  do  but  to  sweep  through 
the  deep  while  the  stormy  tempests  blow  in  the 
shape  of  a  mild  sou-wester ;  so  don't  you  begin 
your  usual  game  of*  settiii  up.  You  ain't  a  mite 
of  good  to  me,  nor  to  yourselves,  a  stay  in  here. 
"^'oiiM  ought  all  to  be  abed,  and,  of  you'll  take  my 
iulvico,  ycm'll  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  you  can,  an 
st;vy  asleep  as  long  as  you  can.  It'll  bo  a  ibggy 
night,  an  we  won't  see  a  mite  o'  sunshine  till  we 
git  into  Digby  harbure.  See  now,  it's  already 
dark ;  so  i  3  my  advice,  an  go  to  bed,  like  civil- 
ized humane  beings." 

It  did  not  need  much  persuasion  to  send  them 
off  to  their  beds.  Night  was  coming  on,  an- 
other night  of  fog  and  thick  darkness.  This  time, 
however,  they  had  the  consolation  of  making  some 
progress,  if  it  were  any  consolation  when  they  had 
no  definite  course  before  them ;  for,  in  such  a 
cruise  as  this,  when  they  were  roaming  about  from 
one  place  to  another,  without  any  fixed  course,  or 
fixed  time,  the  progress  that  thoy  made  was,  after 
^  all,  a  secondary  consideration.  The  matter  of  first 
imi)ortance  was  to  hear  news  of  Tom,  and,  until 
they  did  hear  something,  all  other  things  were  of 
little  moment. 

The  Antelope  continued  on  her  way  all  that  night, 
and  on  the  next  morning  the  boys  found  the  weather 
unchanged.  Breakfast  passed,  and  two  or  three 
hours  went  on.     The  boys  were  scattered  about 


a 


^'•' 


an 
til 


THE  CAPTAIN  HRATS  SC^TKNTIPIC  NAVIGATION.      259 


Icr 

:st 
til 
of 

lit, 

lier 

ree 

DUt 


the  decks,  in  a  languid  way,  looking  out  over  the 
water,  when  suddenly  a  cry  from  Pat,  who  was  in  the 
bows,  aroused  all  of  them.  Immediately  before  them 
rose  a  lofty  shore,  covered  in  the  distance  with  dark 
trees,  but  terminating  at  the  water's  edge  in  frown- 
ing rocks.  A  light-house  stood  here,  u{)on  which  they 
had  come  so  suddenly  that,  before  they  were  over 
their  first  surprise,  they  were  almost  near  enough 
to  toss  a  biscuit  ashore. 

"Wal,  now,  I  call  that  thar  pooty  slick  sailiu," 
exclaimed  Captain  Corbet,  glancing  at  the  light- 
house with  sparkling  eyes.  '^  I  tell  yon  what  it  is, 
boys,  you  don't  find  many  men  in  this  here  day  an 
age  that  can  leave  Manan  at  dusk,  when  the  old 
fog  mill  is  hard  at  work,  and  travel  all  night  in  the 
thickest  fog  ever  seen,  with  tide  agin  him  half  the 
time,  an  steer  through  that  thar  fog.  an  agin  that 
thar  tide,  so  as  to  hit  the  light-house  as  slick  as 
that.  Talk  about  your  scientific  navigation  — 
wouldn't  I  like  to  see  what  one  of  them  thar  sci- 
(Mitific  captings  would  do  with  his  vessel  last  night 
on  sech  a  track  as  T  run  over?'  Wouldn't  T  like  to 
run  a  race  with  him?  an  ef  I  did,  wouldn't!  make 
a  pile  to  Vave  and  bequeath  to  the  infant  when 
his  aged  parieat  air  buried  beneath  the  cold 
ground?  "  , 

While  Captain  Corbet  was  speaking,  the  schooner 
sailed  past  the  light-house,  and  the  thick  fog  closed 
around  her  once  more.  On  one  side,  however, 
they  could  see  the  dim  outline  of  the  shore  on  their 


2G0 


LOST    IN   THE   FOa. 


riglit.  On  they  sailed  for  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  wlien  suddenly  the  fog  vanished,  and,  witli 
scarce  a  moment's  notice,  there  burst  upon  them  a 
blaze  of  sunliglit,  while  overhead  appeared  tlie 
glory  of  the  blue  sky.  The  suddenness  of  that 
transition  forced  a  cry  of  astonishment  from  all. 
They  had  shot  forth  so  quickly  from  the  fog  into 
the  sunlight  that  it  seemed  like  magic. 

They  found  themselves  sailing  along  a  strait 
about  a  mile  in  widtl  with  shores  on  each  side 
that  were  as  high  as  ..lomidon.  On  the  right  the 
lieights  sloped  up  steep,  and  were  covered  with 
trees  of  rich  dark  verdure,  while  on  the  other  side 
the  slope  was  bolder  and  wilder.  Houses  appeared 
upon  the  shore,  and  roads,  and  cultivated  trees. 
This  strait  was  several  miles  in  length,  and  led  into 
a  broad  and  magnificent  basin. 

Here,  in  this  basin,  appeared  an  enchanting  view. 
A  sheet  of  water  extended  before  their  eyes  about 
sixteen  miles  in  length  and  five  in  breadth.  All 
around  were  lofty  shores,  fertile,  well  tilled,  covered 
with  verdurous  trees  and  luxuriant  vegetation. 
The  green  of  the  shores  was  dotted  with  white 
houses,  while  the  blue  of  the  water  was  flecked 
with  snow}^  sails.  Immediately  on  the  right  there 
appeared  a  circular  sweep  of  shore,  on  which  arose 
a  village  whose  houses  were  intermingled  with 
green  trees. 

Into  this  beautiful  basin  came  the  old  French 
navigators  more  than  two  centuries  ago,  and  at  its 


h 

s 

r 

ri 


PORT   ROYAL. 


261 


hcjul  they  found  a  place  vvhicli  seemed  to  them  the 
best  spot  in  Acadio  to  become  the  capital  of^the 
new  colony  wliich  tliey  were  going  to  found  liere. 
So  they  established  their  little  town,  and  tliese 
placid  waters  became  the  scene  of  commercial  ac- 
tivity and  of  warlike  enterprise,  till  generations 
})a8sed  away,  and  the  little  French  town  of  Port 
Royal,  ai'ter  many  strange  vicissitudes,  with  its 
wonderful  basin,  remained  in  the  possession  of  the 
English  con(^ueror. 

''  Now,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  *^  boys,  look  round 
on  that  thar,  an  tell  me  ef  you  ever  see  a  beauti- 
fuller  place  than  this.  Thar's  oiiy  one  place  that 
can  be  coiiii)ared  with  this  here,  an  that's  Grand 
Pre.  But  foi-  the  life  o'  me,  I  never  can  tell  which 
o'  the  two  is  the  pootiest.  It's  strange,  too,  how 
them  French  fellers  managed  to  pick  out  the  best 
places  in  the  hull  i)rovince.  But  it  shows  their  taste 
an  judgment  —  it  does,  railly." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  Antelope  had  dropped 
anchor  in  front  of  the  town  of  Digby,  and  Captain 
C\M-bet  landed  with  the  boys  as  soon  as  possible. 
There  was  as  good  a  chance  of  Tom  being  heard 
of  here  as  anywhere ;  since  this  place  lay  down 
the  bay,  in  one  sense,  and  if  by  any  chance  Tom 
had  drifted  over  to  the  Nova  Scotia  shore,  as  now 
seemed  probable,  he  would  be  not  unlikely  to  go  to 
Pigby,  so  as  to  resume  his  journey,  so  rudely  inter- 
rupted, and  make  his  way  thence  to  his  friends. 

Digby  is  a  quiet  little  place,  that  was  finished 


262  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

long  ago.  It  was  first  settled  by  tlie  Tory  refugees, 
who  came  here  after  the  revolutionary  war,  and 
received  land  grants  from  the  British  government. 
At  first  it  had  some  activity,  but  its  business  soon 
languished.  The  first  settlers  had  such  bright 
hopes  of  its- future  that  they  regularly  laid  out 
a  town,  with  streets  and  squares.  But  these  have 
never  been  used  to  any  extent,  and  now  appear 
grown  over  with  grass.  Digby,  however,  has  so 
nmcli  beauty  of  scenery  around  it,  that  it  may  yet 
attract  a  large  population.  On  landing  here.  Cap- 
tain Corbet  pursued  the  same  course  as  at  other 
places.  He  went  first  to  one  of  the  principal  shops, 
or  the  post  office,  and  told  his  story,  and  afterwards 
went  to  the  schooners  at  the  wharves.  But  at 
Digby  there  was  precisely  the  same  result  to  their 
inquiries  as  there  had  been  at  other  places.  No 
news  had  come  to  the  place  of  any  one  adrift,  nor 
had  any  skipper  of  any  schooner  noticed  anything 
of  the  kind  during  his  last  trip. 

"  What  had  we  better  do  next  ?  " 

"  Wal,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  we  can  ony  finish 
our  cruise." 

"  Shall  we  go  on  ?  " 

"Yes."  '  '     •■ 

"  Up  the  bay  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I'll  keep  on  past  He  Ilautc,  an  I'll  cruise 
around  Minas.  You  see  these  drifts  may  take  him 
in  a'most  any  direction.  I  don't  see  why  he 
sliouldn't  hev  drifted  up  thar  as  well  as  down 
here." 


THE   BAY   OF   FUNDY.  263 

It  was  Wednesday  when  tliey  reached  Digby. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day  the  Antelope  weighed 
anchor,  and  sailed  out  into  the  Bay  (^f  Fundy. 

It  was  bright  sunshine,  with  a  perfectly  cloud- 
less  sky  inside,  but  outside  the  Antelope  plunged 
into  the  midst  of  a  dense  »ud  heavy  fog. 


264  LOST  IN  THE  FOG. 


Tarn's  Devices.  —  Rising  sfiperior  to  Circumstances. 
—  Roast  Clams.  —  Baked  Lobster.  —  Boiled  Mus- 
sels.—  Boiled  Shrimps.  —  Roast  Eggs. —  Dande- 
lions. —  Ditto,  with  Eggs.  —  Roast  Dulse.  — 
Strawberries.  —  Pilot-bread.  —  Strawberry  Cor- 
dial. 

Vlf^EANWHILE  another  day  had  passed  away 
1  Jtt  on  He  Haute. 

^^"  When  we  hist  saw  Tom,  he  had  succeeded 
in  finding  some  chxms,  which  he  roasted  in  front  of 
his  fire,  and  made  thus  a  very  acceptable  rehsh. 
This  not  only  gratified  his  piilate  for  the  time,  but 
it  also  stimulated  him  to  fresh  exertions,  since  it 
showed  him  that  his  resources  were  much  more 
extensive  than  he  had  supposed  tlicm  to  be.  If  he 
had  ever  dreaded  getting  out  of  all  his  provisions, 
he  saw  now  that  the  fear  was  an  unfounded  one. 
Here,  before  his  eyes,  and  close  beside  his  dwelling- 
place,  there  extended  a  broad  field  full  of  food.  In 
that  mud  flat  there  were  clams  enough  to  feed  him 
for  all  the  rest  of  his  life,  if  that  were  necessary. 
But  what  was  more,  he  saw  by  this  the  possibility 


SUPPT.IES    FROM    LAND,   SEA,    AND   SKY. 


265 


tluit  other  articles  of  food  might  bo  reckoned  on, 
by  means  of  which  he  would  be  able  to  relieve  his 
diet  from  tliat  monotony  which  had  thus  far  been 
its  cliief  characteristic.  If  he  could  find  some- 
thing else  besides  clams  and  biscuit,  the  tedium  of 
his  existence  here  would  be  alleviated  to  a  still 
greater  degree. 

He  spent  some  time  in  considering  this  subject, 
and  in  thinking  over  all  the  possible  kinds  of  food 
which  he  might  hope  to  obtain.  Sea  and  land 
might  both  be  relied  on  to  furnish  food  for  his  table 
in  the  desert.  The  sea,  he  knew,  ought  to  supply 
the  following :  — 

1.  Clams, 

2.  Lobsters, 

3.  Mussels, 

in  addition  to  other  things  which  he  had  in  his  mind. 

The  land,  on  the  other  hand,  ought  to  furnish 
something.  Now  that  his  attention  was  fairly  di- 
rected to  this  important  subject,  he  could  think  of 
several  things  which  would  be  likely  to  be  found 
even  on  this  island,  and  the  search  for  which  would 
afford  an  agreeable  amusement. 

Tlie  more  he  thought  of  all  this,  the  more  aston- 
ished he  was  at  the  number  of  things  which  he 
could  think  of  as  being  likely  to  exist  here  around 
him.  It  was  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of.  gratify- 
ing his  appetite,  as  to  find  some  occupation,  that 
be    now  entered  eagerly  upon  putting  this  new 


266 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


project  into  exocution.  Fisli,  flosli,  aiul  fowl  now 
oirorcd  thoinsclvcrf  to  his  endeavors,  and  these 
were  to  be  supplied  by  land,  sea,  and  sky.  ''IMiis 
sudden  enlargement  of  his  resources,  and  also  oi" 
his  sphere  of  operations,  caused  him  to  feel  addi- 
tioir.d  satisfaction,  together  with  a  natural  si'll- 
coiiiplacency.  To  the  ordinary  mind  He  Haute  ap- 
peared utterly  deserted  and  forlorn — a  place  where 
one  miglit  starve  to  death,  if  lie  had  to  remain 
ior  any  length  of  time ;  but  Tom  now  determined 
to  test  to  the  utmost  the  actual  resources  of  the 
island,  so  as  to  prove  to  himself  what  one  unaided 
boy  could  do,  when  thus  thrown  upon  his  own  in- 
telhgent  efforts,  with  dire  necessity  to  act  as  a 
stimulus  to  his  ingenuity. 

First  of  all,  then,  there  was  his  box  of  biscuit, 
which  he  had  brought  with  him. 

To  this  must  be  added  his  first  discovery  on  the 
island,  namely,  the  clams.  Nothing  could  be  of 
greater  importance  than  this,  since  it  allbrded  not 
merely  a  relish,  but  also  actual  food. 

The  >ext  thing  that  he  sought  after  was  lob- 
sters, and  he  went  off  hi  search  of  these  as  soon 
as  he  could  on  the  following  day. 

He  waited  till  the  tide  was  low,  which  was  at 
about  twelve  o'clock,  and  then  went  down  along 
the  beach.  At  !agh  tide,  the  water  came  close  up 
to  tlie  foot  of  the  lofty  clilf;  but  at  ebb,  it  de- 
scended for  some  distance,  so  that  there  was  some 
eort  of  a  beach  even  in  places  that  did  not  prom- 
ise any. 


LAR(JK    SIJITLY    OF    I.OIJSTKRS. 


2G7 


The  beucli  iioaiost  to  where  Tuin  had  taken  i.p 
hi.s  abode  was  an  expanse  ol"  mud  and  sand ;  hut 
l)assing  along  beyond  tliis,  on  the  north  side,  it 
became  gravelly.  Al)out  a  hundred  yards  to  tlie 
west,  on  this  side  of"  the  island,  he  came  to  the 
place  where  he  had  tied  his  boat,  on  that  eventful 
time  when  he  had  drifted  here.  Uelow  this,  the 
beach  extended  down  for  a  long  distance,  and  at 
the  lowest  point  there  were  rocks,  and  sharp 
stones,  and  i)ebbles  of  every  si/e.  Here  Tom  be- 
gan his  search,  and  before  ?»e  had  looked  live  min- 
utes, he  foinid  several  lobsters  of  good  size.  A 
little  farther  search  showed  him  that  there  was  a 
large  sup[)ly  of  these,  so  that,  in  fact,  sullicient 
sup])ort  might  have  been  obtained  for  a  wholo 
ship's  com})any.  I>y  the  time  that  he  had  found  a 
half  dozen  of  these,  and  had  brought  them  back  to 
his  hearth-stone,  it  had  grown  too  dark  to  i^earch 
Vol-  any  more.  Tom's  siNirch,  however,  had  been 
bo  successful,  that  he  felt  (piite  satislied;  and 
though  the  day  had  passed  without  any  cliangi!  in 
t!ie  weather  or  any  biting  of  the  fog,  though  he 
had  listened  in  vain  for  any  sound  over  the  waters 
Avhich  might  tell  of  passers  by,  though  his  signal 
had  not  been  seen,  and  iiis  bright  burning  fin*  had 
not  been  noticed,  yet  the  occupation  of  thouglit 
and  of  action  which  he  had  found  for  himself,  had 
been  sullicient  to  mabe  the  time  i)ass  not  uiiph  as- 
antlv. 

Iliri  evening  repast  was  now  a  decided   improve- 


268  LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 

menl  on  that  of  tlio  procotling  clay.  First  of  all, 
he  spread  some  clams  in  the  hot  ashes  to  roast ; 
and  then,  taking  the  dipper  which  had  been  used 
ibr  l)aling,  he  filled  it  with  water,  and  placing  this 
on  the  lire,  it  soon  began  to  boil.  Into  this  he 
thrust  the  smallest  lobster,  and  watched  it  as  the 
water  bubbled  around  it,  and  its  scaly  covering 
turned  slowly  from  its  original  dark  hue  tu  a 
bright  red  color. 

His  success  thus  far  stimulated  him  to  make 
some  attempts  at  actual  cookery.  Removing  some 
of  tiie  lobster  from  its  shell,  he  poured  out  most  of 
the  water  from  the  pan,  and  into  what  rem  lined 
he  again  i)ut  the  lobster,  cutting  it  up  as  fine  as 
he  could  w^ith  his  knife.  Into  this  he  crumbled 
some  biscuit,  and  stirred  it  up  all  togethei*.  He 
then  phiced  it  over  the  fire  till  It  was  well  baked. 
On  removing  it  and  tasting  it,  he  found  it  most 
palatable.  It  was  already  sufficiently  salt,  and 
only  needed  a  little  pej)per  to  make  it  quite  eipiai 
to  any  scolloped  lobster  tiiat  he  had  ever  tasted 

His  repast  consisted  of  this,  followed  by  the 
roast  clams,  which  formed  an  agreeable  variety. 

Tom  now  felt  like  a  giant  refreshed;  and  while 
sitting  in  front  of  the  evening  fire,  he  occupied 
his  mind  with  ])lans  for  the  morrow,  which  were 
all  directed  towards  enlarging  his  supply  of  pro- 
visions. 

iJe  awaked  late  on  the  n(^xt  morning,  and  found 
Uie  weather  unchanged.     He  tried  to  quell  liu-  im- 


tom's  perseverance. 


260 


patience  and  disfippointment,  and  feeling;  that  idle- 
ness would  never  do,  he  determined  to  go  to  work 
at  once,  and  carry  out  the  plans  of  the  preceding- 
day.  It  was  now  Thursday,  tlie  Uiiddlo  of  the 
second  week,  and  the  fog  had  clung  pertinaciously 
around  liiiu  idmost  all  tliat  time.  It  was  indcMMl 
dislieartening,  and  idleness  under  such  circum- 
stances would  have  ended  in  misery  and  despair; 
but  Tom's  perseverance,  and  obstinate  courage, 
and  buoyant  spirits  enabled  him  still  to  rise  above 
cii'cumstances,  and  struggle  with  the  gloom  around 
him. 

"  (),  go  on,  go  on,"  ho  muttered,  looking  around 
upon  the  ibg.  "  Lot's  see  who  can  stand  it  longest. 
And  now  for  my  foraging  expedition." 

Making  a  hearty  repast  out  of  the  remnants  of 
the  su[)per  of  the  ])receding  ev^ening,  he  went  first 
to  the  shore,  so  as  to  complete  his  search  there 
while  the  tide  should  be  low\  It  was  going  down 
now,  and  the  beach  was  all  before^  him.  lie  wan- 
dered on  till  he  came  to  where  there  was  an  im- 
mense ledge  of  shai'p  rocks,  that  went  from  the 
foot  of  the  precii)ico  down  into  the  bay.  Over 
these  he  clambered,  looking  carefully  around,  until 
at  last  ho  reached  the  very  lowest  point.  Here  he 
soon  found  some  articles  of  diet,  whic^h  wei'(3  <piito 
as  valuable  in  their  way  as  the  clams  and  Kjbsters. 
First  of  all,  he  found  an  immense  (piantity  of  large 
mussels.  These  were  entangled  among  the  thi(^k 
masses  of  sea-weed.     He  knew  that  the   flavor  ol 


270 


LOST   TN  TFIE   FOG. 


mussels  was  miicli  more  delicate  than  that  of  clams 
or  lobsters,  and  that  by  many  connoisseurs  these, 
when  g'ood  and  fresli,  were  ranked  next  to  oysters. 
Tills  discovery,  therefore,  pjavc  him  great  joy,  and 
he  fdled  his  pan,  which  he  had  carried  down,  and 
took  them  back  to  the  shore.  He  also  took  an 
iirmfnl  of  sea-weed,  and,  reaching  his  cam})ing- 
place,  he  threw  the  mussels  in  a  hollow  place  in 
the  sand,  placing  the  sea-weed  around  them.  In 
this  way  he  knew  that  they  would  koc|)  fresh  and 
ejweet  for  any  reasonable  length  of  time. 

Returning  to  the  ledges  of  rock,  ho  walked  al)out 
among  them,  and  found  a  number  of  pools,  some  of 
which  were  of  considerable  size.  These  had  been 
left  by  the  retreating  water;  and  in  these  hollows 
he   soon  saw  a  number  of  small  objects  moving 


about.  Some  of  them  he  caught  without  much 
difficulty,  and  saw  that  they  were  shrimps.  He 
had  hoped  to  find  some  of  these,  but  th(3  discovery 
came  to  him  like  some  unexpected  [)leasure,  and 
seenusd  more  than  he  had  any  right  to  count  on. 
Beside  the  shrimps  his  other  discoveries  seemed 
inferior.  There  was  a  large  number,  and  they 
could  be  caught  without  much  trouble.  He  soon 
filled  his  })aii,  and  brought  these  also  to  his  camp- 
ing-place. Th(^se  he  de})osited  in  a  little  ])ool, 
which  was  on  the  surface  of  some  rocks  that  lav 
not  far  from  the  shore.  Over  those  he  also  laid 
some  sea-weed. 

The  tide  was  now  coming  up,  but  Tom  made  a 


TIIS    MODE    or    LIFE. 


271 


further  journey  to  tlio  bencli,  so  as  to  secure  somo- 
tliing  wliicli  lie  had  noticed  during  his  previous 
expedition.  This  was  a  marine  plant  called  dulse, 
wliich,  in  these  waters,  grows  very  plentifully,  and 
is  gatliered  and  dried  by  the  people  in  large  quan- 
tities. Tt  was  a  substance  of  whicli  Turn  was  very 
fond,  and  he  determined  to  gather  some,  and  dry  it 
in  the  sun.  Collecting  an  armful  of  this,  he  took 
it  to  the  shore,  and  spread  it  out  over  tlie  grass, 
though,  in  that  damp  and  foggy  atmosphere,  there 
was  not  much  ])rospect  of  its  drying. 

It  was  now  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  Tom's  researches  along  the  shore  were  suc- 
cessfully terminated.  Tie  had  found  all  the  diifer- 
ent  articles  that  he  had  thought  of,  and  hisnewacqui- 
sitions  were  now  lying  about  him. 

These  were,  — 

Clams, 

Lobsters, 

Mussels, 

Shrimps, 

Dulse. 

As  ho  murmured  to  himself  the  list  of  things,  he 
smiltMl  triumi)haiitly. 

J>ut  still  there  was  work  to  be  done.  Tom  in- 
tended to  keep  fashionable  hours,  find  dine  late, 
with  only  a  lunch  in  the  middle  of  tlie  da}'.  Tlis 
explorations  of  the  afternoon  were  to  be  important, 
and  he  hoped  that  they  would  be  crowned  with  a 


272 


LpST   IN   THE   FOfi. 


portion  of  that  succoris  wliicU  had  attended  the 
work  of  the  moniing.  lie  took,  therefore,  a  Iiasty 
luncli  of  biscuit  and  cold  lobster,  washed  down 
with  water,  and  then  set  forth. 

This  time  he  turned  away  from  the  shore,  and 
went  to  the  top  of  the  island.  He  carried  in  his 
hand  a  bit  of  rope,  about  a  dozen  fe(^t  in  length, 
and  went  along  the  edge  of  the  clilf  as  liir  as  he 
could,  turning  aside  at  times  to  avoid  any  clumps 
of  trees  or  bushes  that  grew  too  thickly.  In  front 
of  him  the  line  of  clilf  extended  for  some  distance, 
and  he  walked  along,  until,  at  last,  he  came  to  a 
placic  where  the  gulls  flew  about  in  larger  flocks 
than  usual,  almost  on  a  line  with  the  top  of  the 
rock,  lie  had  not  noticed  them  particularly  on  his 
former  walk  along  here  ;  but  now  he  watched  them 
very  attentively,  and  finally  stood  still,  so  as  to  see 
their  actions  to  better  advantaire. 

Tom,  in  fact,  had  made  up  his  mind  to  procure 
some  Q'ulls'  C2:c:s,  thinking'  that  these  would  make 
an  addition  to  his  repast  of  great  importance;  and 
he  now  watched  the  motions  of  these  birds,  so  as 
to  detect  the  most  accessible  of  their  nests.  He 
did  not  have  to  watch  long.  A  little  observation 
showed  him  a  place,  just  under  the  clilf,  not  far 
away  from  liim.  Hastening  forward,  he  bent  over, 
and,  looking  down,  he  saw  a  large  number  of  nests. 
They  had  been  constructed  on  a  shelf  of  rock  im- 
mediately below  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  the  eggs 
wore  within  easy  reach.  The  gulls  fi(Mv  about 
wildly,  as  the  intruder  reached  down  his  hands 


ABaNDANCE   OP   PUOVISTONS.  273 

towards  tlicir  no^t^.        j 

'"'"  -J  "eat  l,in     ;,r     S'"?  "^•>',  "'^'^  --" 
''"'  ""t  folter.    IIo  cin  ,1  '  'J«to.™i„ation 

■'■  t'-y  wore  so  .:„  ;  "  1  ::";''°, '"  *"°  ^""^  '''- 
egg.s  as  Lo  could  can-v      T  '"""■'''  ''^  ■>''"'/ 

"aok  to  his  ca,np.        •  ''"'"  '"^  '"^^  with  hi,!, 

-"ong  tho  g,.as:,    f  ti  ^"^  "^-^  *'-  "Po„  ground, 
vory  i;.,„i,i„:  to  1  in,     Zl  ^  ""*'  "■'"'^•''  '^"'•e 

'^™'  --  ".  then,  sonS    nV7,n;'"''^'r'--'' 
•noi-o  than  anv  of  hi,  nt\    ^  ^""''""^  worth 

forth  in  soari,  of  the l,''  '^'^'l^'-'fo"-      Going 
Pa»  full  of  thor...     il°'  ''°  "'r'^Se.I  to  get  his 

f"S  oir  the  roovs,  he  m  t   ^  '•^'  ""^  "^^"'  ''''"■ 

ton  and  then  .et Ihenf  to Te  fi  'T  T  ^"■*"  ^- 
While  thev  wo,-„  I     1      ^         ''''°  t"  "oil- 

-"'found     ::ri':f'T"-'°ff  0-0  more, 

;i'"-to  Plontifu,  1     'Le  rdi;™^-     '^''^^  -- 
'o'-  them,     ilo  stripped  w'  T  ,'  '"'''  *''«  ««''«o„ 

t'oo,  as  the  coun  ?  n;2  ."  "'  ^"'^ '''"""'  '^  ""■«'' 
t"'^  a  dish  which  Ldhu  ?' ""'  '■"™'^''  «■-•" 
"0  «"ecl  ai^er  a  u.drte'ltct"  ^  '''''     ^'"'^ 

"'-•■•eh  bark,  out  o^vict;:  f "??'  ^"»°  "-- 
t  was  now  ahout  fit   'Irtd  t'''T"'''"''^'^- 


274 


LOST    IN   THl']    F0(7. 


The  dandelions  were  not  quite  cooked  as  }'et ;  so 
Tom  had  to  wait ;  but  while  doing  so,  he  heated 
some  stones  in  the  fire.  By  the  time  tliey  were 
heated,  the  dandelions  were  cooked ;  and  Tom,  re- 
moving the  pan,  put  some  shrimps  and  mussels  in 
it,  to  boil  over  the  fire.  He  then  removed  the 
slonos,  and  placed  one  of  the  lobsters  among  them 
in  such  a  way,  that  it  was  surrounded  on  every 
side  in  a  hot  oven.  He  then  buried  a  few  clams 
among  the  hot  ashes,  and  did  the  same  with  three 
or  four  of  the  gulls'  eggs. 

One  of  the  hot  stones  was  reserved  for  another 
purpose.  It  was  the  lai-gest  of  them,  and  was  rod 
hot  when  he  drew  it  from  the  fire,  but  soon  cool  cm! 
down  enough  to  resume  its  natural  color,  although 
it  retained  an  intense  heat. 

Over  this  he  spread  some  of  the  wet  dulse,  which 
soon  crackled  and  shrivelled  up,  sending  forth  a 
rich  and  fragrant  steam.  In  roasting  this  dulse,  a 
large  piece  would  shrink  to  very  small  proportions, 
so  that  half  of  Tom's  armful,  wlien  thus  roasted,  was 
reduced  to  but  a  small  handful. 

After  finishing  this,  he  drew  the  gulls'  eggs  from 
the  fire,  and  taking  off  the  shells,  he  cut  them  in 
slices,  and  put  them  with  the  dandelions.  Then  ho 
took  the  shrimps  and  mussels  from  the  fire,  and  ro- 
moving  them  from  the  pan,  he  separated  them,  and 
put  them  into  different  bark  dishes.  The  clams 
wore  next  drawn  forth,  and  though  rather  over- 
done, they  wore,  nevertheless,  of  tempting  appear- 


es. 


tom's  bill  of  fare. 


275 


ance  and  appetizing  odor.  Finally,  the  lobster 
was  removed,  and  Tom  contented  himself  with  one 
of  the  claws,  which  he  placed  on  a  dish,  reserving 
the  remainder  for  another  time. 

And  now  the  articles  were  all  cooked,  and  Tom's 
repast  was  ready.  lie  looked  with  a  smile  of  grati- 
iicaticm  npon  the  various  dishes  which  his  inge- 
nuity and  industry  had  draw  ii  forth  from  the  rocks, 
and  cliffs,  and  mud,  and  sand  of  a  desert  island,  and 
won<lered  whether  other  islands,  in  tropical  cli- 
mates, could  yield  a  more  varied  or  more  nu- 
tritious  supply.  lie  thought  of  otiier  plants  which 
might  1)0  found  here,  and  determined  to  try  some 
that  seemed  to  be  nutritious. 

ITere  is  the  repast  which  Tom,  on  that  occasion, 
spread  before  himself:  — 

1.  Roast  clams, 

2.  IJaked  lobster, 

3.  l>oilod  mussels, 

4.  Boiled  shrimps, 

5.  Roast  eggs, 
G.  Dandelions, 

7.  Dandelions  with  eggs, 

8.  Roast  dulse, 
0.    Strawberries, 

10.    Pilot-bread. 

In  one  thing  only  did  Tom  fall  short  of  his  wish- 
es, and  that  was  in  the  way  of  drinks.  Uut  before 
that  diiuier  was  linished,  even  this  was  remedied ; 


27G 


LOST   IN  THE  FOG. 


for  necessity,  the  p,Toat  mother  of  invention,  in- 
stigated Tom  to  squeeze  about  lialf  of  his  straw- 
berries into  a  little  water.  Out  of  this  he  formed 
a  drink  with  a  flavor  that  seemed  to  him  to  be 
quite  delicious.    And  that  made  what  Tom  called,  — 

11.    Strawberry  cordial. 


THE  SITUATION. 


277 


XX. 

Neio  Discovci'ies.  —  The  Boat.  —  A  (jreat  Swell.  — 
Meditations  and  Flans.  —  A  7ieiv,  ami   wonder- 
ful, and,  hcfore  unheard-of  Applieation  of  Sjrritce 
Gum.  —  Tin  ajloat !  Tin  ajloat ! 


^OM  sat  there  over  liis  bcinquet  until  late. 
He  then  went  down  to  the  beach,  and 
brought  up  a  vast  collection  of  drift-wood, 
and  throwing  a  plenteous  supply  upon  the  fire,  he 
lay  down  beside  it,  and  looked  out  over  the  water, 
trying,  as  usual,  to  see  something  through  the  thick 
mist.  The  flames  shot  up  with  a  crackle  and  a 
great  blaze,  and  the  bright  light  shone  brilliantly 
upon  the  water.  The  tide  was  now  up,  and  the 
boat  was  full  before  him.  Tom  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
this  boat,  and  was  mournfully  recalling  his  unsuc- 
cessful experiment  at  making  her  sea-worthy,  and 
was  waiting  to  see  her  sink  down  to  her  gunwales 
as  she  filled,  when  the  thought  occurred  to  him 
that  she  was  not  filling  so  rapidly  as  she  might, 
but  was  floating  much  better  than  usual.  A  steady 
observation  served  to  show  him  that  this  was  no 
fancy,  but  an  actual  fact ;  and  the  confirmation  of 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


I.I 


1.25 


'-  Ih    II  2.2 

I"   1^ 

U    ill  1.6 


i. 


# 


<^ 


*> 

A-' 


q) 


C^V^'**^. 


O^ 


«• 


;\ 


278  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

tfiis  first  impression  at  once  drove  away  all  other 
thoughts,  and  brought  back  all  the  ideas  of  escape 
which  he  once  had  cherished. 

liie  boat  was  admitting  the  water,  certainly,  yet 
she  certainly  did  not  leak  quite  so  badly  as  ])el'ore, 
but  was  floating  far  better  than  she  had  done  on 
the  night  of  his  trial.  What  was  the  meaning  of 
this  ? 

Now,  the  fact  is,  he  had  not  noticed  tlie  boat  par- 
ticularly during  the  last  few  days.  lie  had  given 
it  up  so  coaipletely,  that  it  ceased  to  have  any 
interest  in  his  eyes.  Raising  his  signal,  l)uilding 
his  house,  and  exploring  the  island  had  taken  up 
all  his  thoughts.  Latterly  he  had  thought  of  noth- 
ing but  his  dinner.  J>ut  now  the  change  in  the 
boat  was  unmistakable,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  change  might  have  been  going  on  gradually 
all  this  time  without  his  noticing  it  until  it  had  be- 
come so  marked. 

What  was  the  cause  of  this  change  ?  That  was 
the  question  which  ho  now  sought  to  answer. 
After  some  thought  he  found  a  satisfactory  exi)la- 
nation. 

For  a  luimber  of  days  the  boat  had  been  admit- 
ting the  water  till  she  was  full.  This  watei-  had 
remained  in  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  this  i)rocess 
of  filling  and  emptying  had  been  repeated  every 
tide.  The  atm()si)here  also  had  been  wet,  an<l  the 
wood,  thui^  saturated  with  water  so  frequently,  had 
no  chance  of  getting  dry.     Tom  thought,  therefore, 


I 


tom's  boat  grows  tighter. 


279 


that  the  wooden  framework,  which  he  had  con- 
structed so  a  ^  to  tighten  tlie  leak,  had  been  gradu- 
ally swelling  from  the  action  of  the  water ;  and 
the  planks  of  the  boat  had  been  tightening  tlieir 
cracks  from  the  same  cause,  so  that  now  the  open- 
ing was  not  nearly  so  bad  as  it  had  been.  Thus 
the  boat,  which  once  had  been  uble  to  float  him  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more,  ought  now  to  bo 
able  to  float  him  for  at  least  double  that  time. 

Tom  watched  the  boat  very  attentively  while  the 
tide  was  up ;  and,  when  at  length  it  began  to  re- 
treat, and  leave  it  once  more  aground,  he  noticed 
that  it  was  not  more  than  half  full  of  water.  If  any 
confirmation  had  been  needed  to  the  conclusions 
which  he  had  drawn  from  seeing  the  improved 
buoyancy  of  the  boat,  it  would  have  been  allbrded 
by  tills.  Tom  accepted  this  with  delight,  as  an 
additional  circumstance  in  his  favor;  and  now, 
having  become  convinced  of  this  much,  he  set  his 
wits  to  work  to  see  if  some  plan  could  not  be  hit 
upon  by  means  of  which  the  boat  could  once  more 
be  made  sea-worthy. 

Tom's  indefatigable  perseverance  must  have  been 
noticed  by  this  time.  To  make  the  best  of  circum- 
stances; to  stand  face  to  face  with  misfortune,  and 
shrink  not;  to  meet  the  worst  with  e(|uaninn'ty, 
and  grasp  eagerly  at  the  slightest  favorable  change, 
—  such  was  the  character  that  Tom  liad  shown 
during  his  experience  of  the  past.  Now,  once 
more,  lie  grasped  at  this  slight  circumstance  that 


K 


_^ 


i 


280  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

appeared  to  favor  his  hopes,  and  sought  to  find 
some  way  by  whicli  that  hall-floating  boat  could  be 
made  to  float  wholly,  and  bear  him  away  to  those 
shores  that  were  so  near  by.  Too  long  had  he  been 
submitting  to  this  imprison,ment ;  too  long  had  he 
been  waiting  for  schooners  to  pass  and  to  bring 
him  help;  too  Icmg  had  he  been  shut  in  by  a  fog 
that  seemed  destined  never  to  lift  no  long  as  he  was 
here.  If  he  could  only  form  some  kind  of  a  boat 
that  would  float  long  enough  to  land  him  on  the 
nearest  coast,  all  that  he  wished  Avould  be  gratilied. 

As  he  thought  over  this  subject,  he  saw  plainly 
what  he  had  felt  very  strongly  before  —  that  the 
boat  could  not  bo  sea-worthy  unless  he  had  some 
tar  with  which  to  plaster  over  the  broken  bow,  and 
fill  in  the  gaping  seams ;  but  there  was  no  tar. 
Still,  did  it  follow  that  there  was  nothing  else? 
Might  not  something  be  found  upon  the  island 
which  would  serve  the  purpose  of  tar?  There 
must  be  some  such  substance  and  perhaps  it 
might  be  found  here. 

Tom  now  thought  over  all  the  substances  that  he 
could  bring  before  his  mind.  Would  clay  do  ?  No ; 
clay  would  not.  Would  putty  ?  No,  and  besides, 
ho  could  not  get  any.  What,  then,  would  serve 
th's  important  purpose? 

Tar  was  produced  from  trees.  Were  there  no 
trees  here  that  produced  some  sticky  and  glutinous 
substance  like  tar  ?  There  was  the  resin  of  pine 
trees,  but  there  were  no  pines  on  the  island.    What 


SPRUCE   GUM.  281 

then?  The.se  fir  trees  luid  a  sort  of  sticky,  bal- 
samic juice  that  exiuled  pleiititiilly  Iroiii  tlicm 
wherever  tliey  were  cut.  Might  lie  iiut  make  some 
use  of  tluit?  Suddenly,  in  tlie  midst  ui'  reflections 
like  these,  he  thought  of  the  gum  that  is  found  on 
spruce  trees  —  spruce  gum  !  It  was  an  idea  that 
deserved  to  be  followed  up  and  carried  out.  Thus 
far  he  had  never  thought  of  spruce  gum,  except  as 
something  which  he,  like  most  boys,  was  fond  of 
chewing;  but  now  it  appeared  before  his  mind  as 
aftbrding  a  possible  solution  of  his  diiliculty.  The 
more  he  thought  of  it,  the  more  did  it  seem  that 
this  w^ould  be  adapted  to  his  purpose.  The  only 
question  was,  whether  he  could  obtain  enough  of 
it.  lie  thought  that  he  might  easily  obtain  enough 
if  he  only  took  the  proper  time  and  care. 

With  this  new  plan  in  his  mind,  Tom  retired  for 
the  night,  and  awaked  the  next  morning  by  the 
dawn  of  day.  It  was  still  foggy  ;  but  he  was  now 
so  resigned,  and  was  so  full  of  his  new  plan,  that  it 
did  not  trouble  him  in  the  slightest  degree.  In 
fact,  he  was  so  anxious  to  try  this,  that  the  sight  of 
a  boat  landing  on  the  beach,  all  ready  to  take  him 
otr,  would  not  have  afforded  him  an  unmixed  satis- 
faction. 

lie  took  his  tin  dipper,  and  went  uj)  at  once  into 
the  woods.  Here  he  looked  around  very  carefully, 
and  soon  found  what  he  wanted.  He  knew  per- 
fectly well,  of  course,  how  to  distinguish  spruce 
trees  from  (ir,  by  the  sharp,  prickly  spires  of  the 


282 


LOST  IN   THE   FOG. 


former,  and  so  he  was  never  at  a  loss  which  trees 
to  search.  No  sooner  had  lie  begun,  than  he  was 
surprised  at  the  quantities  that  he  found.  To  an 
ordinary  observer  the  trunk  of  tlie  spruce  tree 
seems  like  any  otlier  tree  trunk  —  no  rougher,  and 
perhaps  somewhat  smoother  than  many  ;  but  Tom 
now  found  that  on  every  tree  ahnost  tliere  were 
h'ttle  round  excrescences,  wliich,  on  being  picked 
at  with  tlie  knife,  came  off  readily,  and  proved  to 
be  gum.  Vast  quantities  of  a  substance  which 
goes  by  the  name  of  spruce  gum  are  manufactured 
and  sold;  but  the  pure  gum  is  a  very  different  ar- 
ticle, having  a  rich,  balsamic  odor,  and  a  delicate 
yet  delicious  flavor ;  and  Tom,  as  he  filled  his  pan, 
and  inhaled  the  fragrance  that  v/as  emitted  by  its 
contents,  lamented  that  his  necessities  compelled 
him  to  use  it  for  such  a  purpose  as  that  to  which 
this  was  destined.  After  four  or  five  hours'  work, 
he  found  that  he  had  gathered  enough.  lie  had 
filled  his  pan  no  less  than  six  times,  and  had  se- 
cured a  supj^ly  which  was  anqjly  suflicient  to  give 
a  coating  of  thick  gum  over  all  the  fractured  place. 
The  tide,  wliich  had  already  riser,  was  now  falling, 
and,  as  soon  as  the  boat  was  aground,  and  the 
water  out  of  her,  Tom  proceeded  to  raise  her 
bows,  in  precisely  the  same  manner  as  lie  had 
raised  the  boat  on  a  former  occasion. 

The  next  thing  was  to  briiig  the  gum  into  a  fit 
condition  for  use.  This  he  did  by  kindling  the 
lire,  and  melting   it  in'  his  tin   pan.     This   would 


TOM  APrijKs  THE  cmi.  283 

ratlier  intorf'ero  witli  the  use  of  that  article  as  a 
CDokiiig  utcMisil,  1)11 1  1U)W  that  Tom's  miiul  was  lull 
of  this  HOW  piirposo,  cooking  and  things  of  that 
sort  had  lost  all  attractions  for  him.  As  for  food, 
there  was  no  fear  about  that.  He  had  his  biscuit, 
and  the  lobster  and  shell-fish  which  he  had  cooked 
on  the  preceding  day  were  but  partially  consumed. 
Enough  remained  to  supply  many  more  ineals. 

The  gum  soon  melted,  and  then  a  brush  was 
needed  to  apply  it  to  the  boat.  This  was  pro- 
cured by  cutting  oil'  a  little  strip  of  cjinvas,  altout 
a  yard  long  and  six  inches  wide.  By  picking  out 
some  of  the  tlu'eads,  and  rolling  it  up,  a  very  ser- 
viceablo  brush  was  formed. 

Taking  the  gum  now  in  its  melted  state,  Tom 
dipped  his  brush  into  it,  and  applied  it  all  over 
the  broken  surface  of  the  bow,  })rcssing  the  hot 
li(piid  in  close,  and  allowing  it  to  harden  in  the 
cracks.  His  first  coating  of  gum  was  Viivy  satis- 
factorily applied,  and  it  seemed  as  though  a  fcw^- 
more  coatings  ought  to  ':ccurc  the  boat  from  the 
entrance  of  the  water.  The  gum  was  tenacious, 
and  its  oidy  bad  (piality  was  its  brittleness;  but, 
as  it  would  not  be  exposed  to  the  blows  of  any 
hard  substances,  it  seemed  (piite  able  to  servo 
Tom's  wants. 

Tom  now  went  down  to  the  drift-wood  and  1) rough t 
up  a  fresh  supply  of  fuel,  aft(M-  which  he  melted 
a  second  panl'ul  of  gum,  and  a[)pli(Ml  this  to  the 
boat.     lie  endeavored  to  secure  an  entrance  for  it 


284  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

into  all  tlie  oracks  tliat.  did  not  seem  to  be  sufficient* 
]y  filled  at  tlie  first  application,  and  now  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing*  all  of  those  deep  marks  filled 
up  and  efi'aced  hy  the  gum. 

One  [)lace  still  remained  which  had  not  yet  been 
made  secure  ai2;ainst  the  enti'ance  of  the  water, 
and  that  was  where  the  planks  gaped  open  from 
the  blow  that  had  crushed  in  the  bows.  Here  the 
canvas  that  was  inside  protruded  slightly.  Tom 
ripped  up  some  of  the  canvas  that  was  on  the  tent, 
and  taking  the  threads,  stuffed  them  in  the  open- 
ing, mixing  thcjn  with  gum  as  he  did  so,  until  it 
was  filled  ;  and  then  over  this  he  put  a  coating  of 
the  gum.  After  this  another  pan,  and  yet  another, 
were  melted,  and  the  hot  gum  each  time  was  ap- 
plied. This  gave  the  whole  surface  a  smooth 
appearance,  that  promised  to  be  impenetrable  to 
the  water. 

The  gu.  which  he  had  collected  was  enough  to 
fill  two  more  pans.  This  he  melted  as  l>efore, 
and  applied  to  the  bows.  Each  new  application 
clung  to  the"  one  that  had  preceded  it,  in  a  thick 
and  quickly  hardening  layer,  until  at  last,  when  the 
work  was  done,  there  appeared  a  coating  of  this 
gum  formed  from  six  successive  layers,  that  was 
smooth,  and  hard,  and  without  any  crack  whatever. 
It  seemed  absolutely  water-tight ;  and  Tom,  as  he 
looked  at  it  now,  could  not  imagine  where  the 
water  could  penetrate.  Yet,  in  order  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure,  he  collected  two  more  pan- 


' 


HIS   PLAN   FOR   FLOATING   OFF.  2^5 

fills,  and  melting  this  lio  api)lie(l  it  as  Itufore. 
After  this  was  over,  he  made  a  torch  of  birch  hark, 
and  lighting-  this,  lie  held  the  flame  against  the  gnin 
till  the  whole  outer  surface  began  to  melt  and 
run  together.  This  served  to  secure  any  crevices 
that  his  brush  might  have  passed  by  Avithout  prop- 
erly filling. 

The  work  was  now  complete  as  far  as  Tom  could 
do  it ;  and  on  examining  it,  he  regretted  that  ho 
had  not  thought  of  this  before.  lie  felt  an  exul- 
tation that  he  had  never  known  in  his  life.  If  he, 
by  his  own  efforts,  could  thus  rescue  himself,  what 
a  cause  it  would  bo  always  after  to  struggle  against 
misiortune,  and  rise  superior  to  circumetanccs  ! 

As  to  the  voyage,  Tom's  plan  was  the  same  tluit 
it  had  been  on  a  former  occasion.  TTe  would  float 
the  boat  at  high  tide,  and  then  push  off,  kcei)ing 
her  near  the  shore,  yet  afloat  until  ebl)  tide.  Then, 
when  the  tide  should  turn,  and  the  current  run  up 
the  bay,  he  would  put  off,  and  float  along  with  the 
stream  until  ho  readied  land. 

According  to  his  calculations  it  would  be  high 
tide  about  two  hours  after  dark,  which  would  be 
some  time  after  ten.  He  would  liave  to  be  up  all 
night;  for  the  tide  would  not  turn  until  after  four 
in  the  morning.  But  that  did  not  trouble  him.  He 
would  have  too  much  on  his  mind  to  allow  him  to 
feel  sleepy,  and,  besides,  the  hope  which  lay  before 
him  would  prevent  him  from  feeling  fatigue. 

One  thing  more  remained,  and  that  was,  to  bring 


28G 


LOST    IN   T!TE    FO(J. 


up  a  fresh  supply  of  fuel.  The  night  woukl  be 
dark,  and  wliile  floating  in  the  boat,  lie  would  need 
the  liglit  of  the  fire.  So  he  brought  \\\)  from  the 
beach  an  ample  supply  of  drift-wood,  and  laid  it 
with  the  rest. 

When  Tom's  work  was  ended,  it  was  late  in  the 
day,  and  he  determined  to  secure  some  sleep  before 
he  began  his  long  night's  work.  He  knew  that  he 
could  waken  at  the  right  time  ;  so  he  laid  himself 
down  in  his  tent,  and  soon  slept  the  sleep  of  the 
weary. 

By  ten  o'clock  he  was  awake.  He  found  the 
water  already  up  to  the  boat.  There  was  no  time 
to  lose.  He  carried  his  box  of  biscuit  on  board, 
and  filled  his  pan  with  water  from  the  brook,  so  as 
to  secure  himself  against  thirst  in  case  the  boat 
should  float  away  farther  than  he  anticipated. 
Then  he  took  his  paddle,  and  got  into  the  boat. 

The  water  came  up  higher.  Most  anxiously  Tom 
watched  it  as  it  rose.  The  fire  was  burning  low, 
and  in  order  to  make  more  light.  Torn  went  ashore 
and  heaped  an  immense  quantity  of  wood  upon  it. 
The  flames  now  blazed  up  bright,  and  on  going 
back  again  to  the  boat,  the  water  was  plainly  visible 
as  it  closed  around  the  bows. 

Most  anxiously  he  now  awaited,  with  his  eyes 
fastened  upon  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  He  had  not 
brought  the  old  sail  this  time,  but  left  it  over  his 
tent,  and  he  could  see  plainly.  Higlier  came  the 
water,  and   still  higher,  yet  none    came    into  the 


THE   BOAT    FLOATS,  287 

boat,  and  Tom  could  r.caroo  believe  in  his  good 
fortune. 

At  last  the  boat  floated  ! 

Yes,  the  crisis  had  come  and  passed,  and  the 
bout  floated  ! 

^I'here  was  now  no  longer  any  doubt.  His  work 
was  successful;  his  deliverance  was  sure.  The 
way  over  the  waters  was  open.  Farewell  to  his 
island  prison !  Welcome  once  more  the  great 
wiu'ld !  Welcome  home,  and  friends,  and  happi- 
ness ! 

In  that  moment  of  joy  his  heart  seemed  almost 
ready  to  burst.  It  was  with  difliculty  that  he 
cahned  himself;  and  then,  offering  up  a  prayer  of 
thanksgiving,  he  pushed  off  from  the  shore. 

The  boat  floated  ! 

The  tide  rose,  and  lingered,  and  fell. 

The  boat  floated  still. 

There  was  not  the  slightest  sign  of  a  leak. 
Every  hour,  as  it  passed,  served  to  give  Tom  a 
greater  assurance  that  tlic  boat  was  sea-worthy. 

He  found  no  difficulty  in  keeping  her  afh)at, 
even  while  retaining  her  near  the  shore,  so  that 
she  might  bo  out  of  the  way  of  the  currents. 

At  lengtli,  when  the  tide  was  about  half  way 
down,  he  found  the  fire  burning  too  low,  and  deter- 
mined to  go  ashore  and  re[)lenish  it.  A  rock  jut- 
ted above  the  water  not  far  off.  To  this  he  secured 
the  boat,  and  then  landing,  ho  walked  up  the  beach. 
Reaching  the  fire,  he  threw  upon  it  all  the  remain- 


2S8  LOST   IN   THE   F0<^. 

ing-  wood.  Rctarning  then  to  the  boat,  ho  board- 
ed hor  without  difficulty. 

Tiie  tide  full  lower  and  lower. 

And  now  Torn  found  it  more  and  more  difficult 
to  keep  the  boat  afloat,  without  allowing  her  to  be 
caught  by  the  current.  He  did  not  dare  to  keep 
her  bows  near  the  shore,  but  turned  her  about,  so 
that  her  stem  should  rest  from  time  to  time  on  the 
gravel.  At  last  the  tide  was  so  low  that  rocks  ap- 
peared above  the  surface,  and  the  boat  occasionally 
struck  them  in  a  very  unpleasant  manner.  To  stay 
so  near  the  shore  any  longer  was  not  possible.  A 
slight  blow  against  a  rock  might  rub  off  all  the 
brittle  gum,  and  then  his  chances  would  be  de- 
stroyed, lie  determined  to  put  out  farther,  and 
trust  himself  to  Providence. 

Slowly  and  cautiously  he  let  his  boat  move  out 
into  deeper  water. 

But  slowness  and  caution  were  of  little 
avail.  In  the  deeper  water  there  was  a  strong 
current,  which  at  once  caught  the  boat  and  bore 
her  along.  Tom  struggled  bravely  against  it,  but 
without  avail.  He  thought  for  a  moment  of  seek- 
ing the  shore  again,  but  the  fear  that  the  boat 
would  be  ruined  deterred  him. 

There  was  a  little  wind  blowing  from  the  south- 
west, and  he  determined  to  trust  to  the  sail.  He 
loosened  this,  and,  sitting  down,  waited  for  further 
developments. 

The  wind  filled  the  sail,  and  the  boat's  progress 


BELOW  ILE  HAUTE. 


289 


was  checked  somewhat,  yet  still  she  drifted  down 
the  bay. 

She  was  drifting  down  past  the  north  shore  of 
the  island.  Tom  could  see,  amid  the  gloom,  the 
frowning  clilfs  as  he  drifted  past.  The  firelight 
was  lost  to  view;  then  he  looked  for  some  time 
upon  the  dark  form  of  the  island. 

At  last  even  that  was  lost  to  view. 

He  was  drifting  down  the  bay,  and  was  already 
below  He  Haute. 

Id 


y 


y 


290  LOST  IX  Tin:  Foa. 


XXI. 

Scolfs  Bay  and  Old  Bennie.  —  His  tivo  TJieories.  — 
Off  to  the  desert  Island.  —  Landing.  —  A  Picnic 
Ground.  —  Gloom  and  Despair  of  the  Explorers. 
—  All  over.  —  Sadden  Summons. 

^IffT  was  on  Wednesday  evening  that  the  Antelope 
2ls  passed  from  the  sunshine  and  beauty  of  Digby 
Basin  out  into  the  fog  and  darkness  of  the 
Bay  of  Fundy.  The  tide  was  faUing,  and,  though 
the  wind  was  in  their  favor,  yet  their  progress  was 
somewhat  slow.  But  the  fact  that  they  were  mov- 
ing was  of  itself  a  consolation.  In  spite  of  Cap- 
tain Corbet's  declared  preference  for  tides  and 
anchors,  and  professed  contempt  for  wind  and  sails, 
the  boys  looked  upon  these  last  as  of  chief  impor- 
tance, and  preferred  a  slow  progress  with  the  wind 
to  even  a  more  rapid  one  by  means  of  so  unsatis- 
factory a  method  of  travel  as  drifiing. 

At  about  nine  on  the  following  morning,  the  An- 
telope readied  a  little  place  called  Wilmoi  Landing, 
whore  they  went  on  shore  and  made  the  usual  in- 
quiries with  the  uguol  result.  Embarking  again, 
they  sailed  on  for  the  remainder  of  that  day,  and 
stopped  at  one  or  two  places  along  the  coast. 


SCOTT  S    BAY. 


291 


in- 
lin, 


On  the  Dcxt  morning  (Friday)  they  dropped  an- 
chor in  front  oflTall's  llarljor  —  a  little  plaee  whoso 
name  liad  become  familiar  to  tliem  (hiring-  their 
memorable  excursion  to  Blomidon.  11(^1-0  they  met 
with  the  same  discouraging  answer  to  their  ques- 
tion. 

"  Wal,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  we  don't  seem  to 
meet  witli  nuich  success  to  speak  of — do  we? 

"  No,"  said  Bart,  gloomily. 

"  1  suppose  your  pa'll  be  sendin  schooners  over 
this  here  same  ground.     'Tain't  no  use,  though." 

"  Where  shall  we  go  next  ?  " 

"  Wal,  we've  ben  over  the  hull  bay  mostly;  but 
thar's  one  place  yet,  an  tha^  ^\'e'll  go  to  next." 

"What  place  is  that?" 

-'  Scott's  Bay.   • 

"My  idee  is  this,"  continued  Captain  Corbet: 
"  We'll  finish  our  tower  of  ins})ection  round  the 
Bay  of  Fundy  at  Scott's  Bay.  Thar  won't  be 
nothin  more  to  do ;  thar  won't  remain  one  single 
settlement  Init  what  we've  called  at,  ^cept  one  or 
two  triflin  places  of  no  'count.  So,  after  Scott's 
J>ay,  my  idee  is  to  go  right  straight  off  to  old 
Minas.  Who  knows  'but  what  he's  got  on  thar 
somev/har?  " 

"  I  don't  see  much  chance  of  that." 

"Why  nnt?" 

"Because,  if  he  had  drifted  into  the  Straits  of 
iSIinas,  he'd  manage  to  get  ashore." 

"  1  don't  see  that." 


.  i- ■■     5PV1JPIV- W*"*"   -'"^  ' 


202 


LOST  IN   THE  FOG. 


"  Wliy,  it's  so  narrow." 

"  Narrcr  ?  0,  it's  wider'n  you  think  for ;  besides, 
ef  lie  got  stuck  into  tlie  middle  of  that  thar  curn't, 
how's  ho  to  i»'et  to  the  shore?  an  him  without  any 
oars?  Answer  me  that.  No,  sir  ;  the  boat  that'll  drift 
down  Petticoat  Jack  into  the  bay,  without  gettin 
ashore,  '11  drift  up  them  straits  into  Minas  jest  the 


?? 


same. 

'"Well,  there  does  seem  something  in  that.     1 
didn't  think  of  his  drifting  down  the  Petitcodiac." 

"  Somethin  ?    Bless  your  heart !  ain't  that  every- 
thin?" 

'^  J  Jut    do    you    think    there's    really   a   chance 
yet  ?  " 

"  A  chance  ?     Course  thar  is.     While  thar's  life 
thar's  hope." 

"  But  how  could  he  live  so  long?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  ?  " 

"  lie  might  starve." 

"  Not  he.     Didn't  he  carry  off  my  box  o'  bis- 
cuit?" 

-'  Think  of  this  fog." 

"  0,  fog  ain't  much.     It's  snow  an  cold  that  tries 
'\  man.     He's  tough,  too." 

"  But  he's  been  so  exposed." 
,     "  Exposed  ?     What  to  ?     Not  he.     Didn't  he  go 
an  carry  oft*  that  ole  sail  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  it's  all  over  with 
him  ?  " 

"  Don't  give  him  up ;  keep  up ;  cheer  up.    Think 


^ 


CAPTAIN  CORBET  HOPEFUL. 


293 


how  wo  got,  liold  of  olo  Solomon  after  giviii  liim 
up.     I  toll  you  that  thai*  was  a  good  sign.'' 

"  lie's  been  gone  too  long.  Why,  it's  going  on 
a  fortniglit?  "  * 

''  Wal,  what  o'  that  cf  he's  goin  to  turn  up  all 
right  in  the  end?  I  tell  you  he's  sonicwhar.  Kf 
lie  ain't  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  he  may  be  driftin  off 
the  coast  o'  Maine,  an  picked  up  long  ago,  an  on 
his  way  home  now  per  steamer." 

Bart  shook  his  head,  and  turned  away  in  deep 
despondency,  in  which  feeling  all  the  other  boys 
joined  him.  They  had  but  little  hope  now.  The 
time  that  had  elapsed  seemed  to  be  too  long,  and 
their  disap[)ointments  had  been  too  many.  The 
sadness  which  they  had  felt  all  along  was  now 
deeper  than  ever,  and  they  looked  forward  with- 
out a  ray  of  hope. 

On  Friday  evening  they  landed  at  Scott's  Bay, 
and,  as  old  Beniiie  Griggs's  house  was  nearest,  they 
went  there.  They  found  both  the  old  ])eople  at 
home,  and  were  received  with  an  outburst  of  wel- 
come. Captain  Corbet  was  an  old  accjuaintance, 
and  made  himself  at  home  at  once.  Soon  his 
errand  was  announced. 

Bennie  had  the  usual  answer,  and  that  was,  that 
nothing  whatever  had  been  heard  of  any  drifting 
boat.  But  he  listened  with  intense  interest  to 
Captain  Corbet's  story,  and  made  him  tell  it  over 
and  over  again,  down  to  the  smallest  particular, 
lie  also  questioned  all  the  boys  very  closely. 


294  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

After  the  questioning  wan  uver,  he  sat  in  silence 
for  a  lung  time.  At  last  he  luukecl  keenly  at  Cap- 
tain Corbet. 

"  He's  not  ben  heard  tell  of  for  about  twelve 
days  ?  " 

"  No." 

"An  it's  ben  ony  moderate  weather?" 

"  Ony  moderate,  but  foggy." 

"  0,  of  course.  Wal,  in  my  'i)inion,  fust  an  fore- 
must,  he  ain't  likely  to  hev  gone  down." 

"  That  thar's  jest  what  I  say." 

"An  he  had  them  biscuit?" 

"Yes  — a  hull  box." 

"  An  the  sail  for  shelter  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Wal ;  it's  queer.  He  can't  hev  got  down  by 
the  State  o'  Maine  ;  for,  ef  he'd  got  thar,  he'd  hev 
sent  word  home  before  this." 

"  Course  he  would." 

Old  Bennie  thought  over  this  for  a  long  time 
again,  and  the  boys  watched  him  closely,  as  though 
some  result  of  vital  importance  huug  upon  his  final 
decision. 

"  Wal,"  said  Bennie  at  last,  "  s'})osin  tliat  he's 
alive,  —  an  it's  very  likely,  —  thar's  ony  two  ways 
to  account  for  his  oiniat'ral  silence.  Them  Oiir 
these :  — 

"  Fust,  he  may  liev  got  picked  up  by  a  timber 
ship,  outward  bound  to  the  old  country.  In  that 
case  he  may  be  carried  the  hull  way  acrost.     I've 


OLD    BENNIE's   theories. 


295 


knowed  one  or  two  sech  cases,  an  hev  heerd  of 
severial  more. 

"  Second.     He  may  hev  drifted  onto  a  oninhab- 
ited  island." 

"An   oninhabited    island?"    repeated    Captain 
Corbet.  ^ 

"  Yea." 

"  Wal,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  after  a  pause,  "  I've 
knowed  things  stranger  than  that." 
"  So  hev  I." 

"  Air  thar  any  isle  of  the  ocean  in  particular  that 
you  happen  to  hev  in  your  mind's  eye  now  '<*" 

"  Thar  air." 

"  Which  ?  " 

"  lie  Haute." 

"  We',  now,  railly,  I  declar  — ef  I  wan't  thinkin 
o'  tiiat  very  spot  myself.  An  I  war  thinkin,  as  I 
war  a  comin  up  the  bay,  that  that  thar  isle  of  the 
ocean  was  about  the  only  spot  belongin  to  this  here 
l>ay  that  hadn't  been  heerd  from.  An  it  ain't  on- 
likely  that  them  shores  could  a  tale  onfbld  that 
mought  astonish  some  on  us.  I  shouldn't  wonder 
a  mite." 

"  Nor  me,"  said  Bonnie,  gravely. 

"  It's  either  a  timber  ship,  or  a  desert  island,  as 
you  say,  —  that's  sartin,"  said  Captain  Coi-bet,  after 
further  thought,  speaking  with  strong  emphasis. 
"  Thar  ain't  a  mite  o'  doubt  about  it ;  an  which  o' 
them  it  is  air  a  very  even  question.  For  my  part, 
I'd  as  soon  bet  on  one  as  t'other." 


296 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


"  I've  heerd  tell  o'  several  seafarin  men  that's 
got  adrift,  an  lit  on  that  thar  isle,"  said  Bennio, 
solemnly. 

"  Wal,  so  hev  I ;  an  though  our  lad  went  all 
the  way  from  Petticoat  Jack,  yet  the  currents  in 
thar  wanderins'to  an  fro  could  eftectooate  that  thar 
pooty  mighty  quick,  an  in  tlio  course  of  two  or 
three  days  it  could  land  him  high  an  dry  on  them 
thar  sequestrated  shores." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  chance  of  it  ?  "  asked 
Bruce,  eagerly,  directing  his  question  to  Bennic. 

"  Do  I  think  ?  Why,  sartin,"  said  Bennic,  re- 
garding Bruce's  anxious  face  with  a  calm  smile. 
"  Hain't  I  ben  a  expoundin  to  you  the  actool  facts  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,"  cried  Bart,  starting  to  his  feet, 
"  let's  go  at  once." 

"  Let's  what  ?  "  asked  Captain  Corbet. 

"  Why,  hurry  off  at  once,  and  get  to  him  as  soon 


as  we  can. 


jj 


"  All  pray,  young  sir,  how  could  we  get  to  him 
by  leavin  here  jest  now  ?  " 

''  Can't  we  go  straight  to  He  ITaute  ?  " 

"  Scacely.  The  tide '11  be  agin  us,  an  the  wind 
too,  till  nigh  eleven." 

Bart  gave  a  deep  sigh. 

"  But  don't  bo  alarmed.  We'll  go  thar  next,  an 
as  soon  as  we  can.  You  see  we've  got  to  go  on 
into  Minas  Basin.  Now  we  want  to  leave  liere  so 
as  to  drop  down  with  the  tide,  an  then  drop  up 
with  the  flood  tide  into  Minas  Bay.     I've  about 


CONVERSATION   IN   THE   KITCHEN. 


297 


concluded  to  wait  hero  till  about  three  in  the 
mornin.  We'll  drop  down  to  the  island  in  about  a 
couple  of  hours,  and'll  liev  time  to  run  ashore, 
look  round,  and  catch  the  flood  tide." 

"  Well,  you  know  best,"  said  Bart,  sadly. 

"  I  think  that's  the  only  true  an  rational  idee," 
said  Bennie.  "  I  do,  railly ;  an  meantime  you  can 
all  get  beds  here  with  me,  an  you  can  hev  a  good 
bit  o'  sleep  before  startin." 

This  conversation  took  place  not  long  after  their 
arrival.  The  company  were  sitting  in  tlie  big  old 
kitchen,  and  Mrs.  Bennie  was  spreading  her  most 
generous  repast  on  the  table. 

After  a  bounteous  supper  the  two  old  men  talked 
over  the  situation  until  bedtime.  They  told  many 
stories  about  drifting  boats  and  rafts,  comi^ared 
notes  about  the  direction  of  certain  currents,  and 
argued  about  the  best  course  to  pursue  un- 
der certain  very  difficult  circumstances,  such,  for 
example,  as  a  thick  snow-storm,  midnight,  a  heavy 
sea,  and  a  strong  current  setting  upon  a  lee  shore, 
the  ship's  anchor  being  broken  also.  It  was  gen- 
erally considered  that  the  situation  was  likely  to 
be  unpleasant. 

At  ten  o'clock  Bennie  hurried  his  guests  to  tlieir 
beds,  where  they  slept  soundly  in  spite  of  their 
anxiety.  Before  three  in  the  morning  he  awaked 
them,  and  they  were  soon  ready  to  reiimbark. 

It  was  dim  morning  twilight  as  they  bade  adieu 
to  their  hospitable  entertainers,  and  but  little  could 


298  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

be  seen.  Captain  Corbet  raised  his  head,  and 
peered  into  the  sky  above,  and  snifTed  the  sea  air. 

"  Wal,  railly,"  said  he,  ''  I  do  dechir  —  ef  it  don't 
railly  seem  as  ef  it  railly  is  a  change  o'  weather  — 
it  railly  doos.  Why,  ain't  this  rich  ?  We're  ben 
flivored  at  last.  We're  agoin  to  hov  a  clar  day. 
Hooray !  " 

The  boys  could  not  make  out  wliether  the  cap- 
tain's words  were  justified  or  not  by  the  facts,  but 
thought  that  they  detected  in  the  air  rather  tlie 
fragrance  of  the  land  than  the  savor  of  the  salt 
sea.  There  was  no  wind,  however,  and  they  could 
not  see  far  enough  out  on  the  water  to  know 
whether  there  was  any  fog  or  not. 

Bennie  accompanied  them  to  the  boat,  and  urged 
them  to  come  back  if  they  found  the  boy,  and  let 
him  rest  in  Scott's  Bay.  But  the  fate  of  that  boy 
was  so  uncertain,  that  they  could  not  make  any 
promise  about  it. 

It  was  a  little  after  three  when  the  Antelope 
weighed  anchor,  and  dropped  down  the  bay. 

There  was  no  wind  whatever.  It  was  the  tide 
only  that  carried  them  down  to  their  destination. 
Soon  it  began  to  grow  lighter,  and  by  the  time 
that  they  were  half  way,  they  saw  before  them 
the  dark  outline  of  the  island,  as  it  rose  from  the 
black  water  with  its  frowning  cliffs. 

The  boys  looked  at  it  in  silence.  It  seemed,  in- 
deed, a  hopeless  place  to  search  in  for  signs  of  poor 
Tom.     How  could  he  ever  get  ashore  in  such  a 


CAPTAIN  CORBET  COULD  NOT  BE  MISTAKEN.       299 


place  as  this,  bo  far  out  of  tlio  line  of  liis  drift ;  or 
if  he  had  gone  ashore  there,  liow  couM  he  liavo 
Hved  till  now  ?  Such  were  the  gloomy  and  de- 
spondent thoughts  that  filled  the  minds  of  all,  as 
they  saw  the  vessel  drawing  nearer  and  still  near- 
er to  those  I'ro wiling  cliifs. 

As  they  went  on  the  wind  grew  stronger,  and 
they  found  that  it  was  their  old  friend  —  the  sou- 
wester.  The  light  increased,  and  they  saw  a  fog- 
cloud  on  the  horizon,  a  little  beyond  He  TTaute. 
Captain  Corbet  would  not  acknowledge  that  he 
had  been  mistaken  in  his  impressions  about  a 
change  of  weather,  but  assured  the  boys  that  this 
was  only  the  last  gasp  of  the  sou-wester,  and  that 
a  change  was  bound  to  take  place  before  evening. 
But  though  the  fog  was  visible  below  He  Haute,  it 
did  not  seem  to  come  any  nearer,  and  at  length 
the  schooner  approached  the  island,  and  dropped 
anchor. 

It  was  about  half  past  four  in  the  morning,  and 
the  light  of  day  was  beginning  to  be  diffused 
around,  when  they  reached  tlieir  destination.  As 
it  was  low  tide,  they  could  not  approach  very 
near,  but  kept  well  off  the  precipitous  sliores  on 
the  south  side  of  the  island.  In  the  course  of  her 
drift,  while  letting  go  the  anchor,  she  went  off  to 
a  point  about  half  way  down,  opposite  the  shore. 
Scarce  had  her  anchor  touched  bottom,  than  the 
impatient  boys  were  all  in  the  boat,  calling  on 
Captain  Corbet  to  come  along.  The  captain  and 
Wade  took  the  oars. 


300  LOST  IN   THE   FOG. 

It  was  a  long  pull  to  the  shore,  and,  when  tliey 
reached  it,  the  tide  was  so  low  that  there  re- 
mained a  long  walk  over  the  beach.  They  had 
landed  about  half  way  down  the  island,  and,  as 
they  directed  their  steps  to  the  open  ground  at  the 
east  end,  they  had  a  much  greater  distance  to 
traverse  than  they  had  anticipated.  As  they 
walked  on,  they  did  not  speak  a  word.  But  al- 
ready they  began  to  doubt  whether  there  was  any 
hope  left.  They  had  been  bitterly  disappointed 
as  they  came  near  and  saw  no  sign  of  life.  They 
had  half  expected  to  see  some  figure  on  the  beach 
waiting  to  receive  them.  But  there  was  no  figure 
and  no  shout  of  joy. 

At  length,  as  they  drew  nearer  to  the  east  end, 
and  the  light  grew  brighter,  Bart,  who  was  in  ad- 
vance, gave  a  shout. 

They  all  hurried  forward. 

Bart  was  pointing  towards  something. 

It  was  a  signal-staff,  with  something  that  looked 
like  a  flag  hoisted  half  mast  high. 

Every  heart  beat  faster,  and  at  once  the  wildest 
hopes  arose.  They  hurried  on  over  the  rough 
beach  as  fast  as  possible.  They  clambered  over 
rocks,  and  sea-weed,  and  drift-wood,  and  at  length 
reached  the  bank.  And  still,  as  they  drew  nearer, 
the  signal-staff  rose  before  them,  and  the  flag  at 
half  mast  became  more  and  more  visible. 

Rushing  up  the  bank  towards  this  place,  each 
trying  to  outstrip  the  others,  they  hurried  forward, 


REMAINS  or  TOM'S  CAMP  FOUND. 


301 


full  of  liopc  now  that  some  signs  of  Tom  might  bo 
liorc.  At  longth  thoy  reached  the  place  where 
Tom  had  heeu  so  long,  and  here  their  steps  woro 
aiM'estcd  hv  the  scene  heforc  them. 

On  the  ])()int  arose  the  signal-staff,  willi  its 
heavy  Hag  hanging  down.  The  wind  was  now 
blowing,  hut  it  necdi^d  almost  a  gale  to  liold  out 
that  cumbi-ons  canvas,  (lose  by  were  the  smonl- 
dering  remains  of  whai:  had  been  a  huge  iiri;,  and 
all  around  this  were  chips  and  sticks.  In  the  im- 
mediate neighboi'hood  were  some  bark  dishes,  in 
some  of  which  were  shrimps  and  nnissels.  ClaniB 
and  lobsters  lay  around,  Avith  shells  of  both. 

Not  far  off  was  a  canvas  tent,  which  looked  sin- 
gularly coml'oi'table  and  cosy. 

Captain  Corbet  looked  at  all  this,  and  shook  his 
head. 

"  Bad  —  bad  —  bad,"  he  murmured,  in  a  doleful 
tone.  "  My  last  hope,  or,  rayther,  one  of  my  last 
hopes,  dies  away  inside  of  me.  This  is  wuss  than 
findin'  a  desert  place." 

"Why?  Hasn't  ho  been  here?  He  must  have 
been  here,*'  cried  Bart.  "  Tuese  are  his  marks.  I 
dare  say  lie's  here  now  —  perhaps  asleep  —  in  the 
camp.     I'll  go  —  " 

"Don't  go  —  don't  —  you  needn't,"  said  Captain 
Corbet,  with  a  groan.  "  You  don't  iniderstand. 
It's  ben  no  pore  castaway  that's  come  here  —  no 
pore  driftin  lad  that  fell  upon  these  lone  and  des- 
olate  coasts.     No  —  never  did   he   set   foot  here. 


302  LOST   IN   THE   FOCJ. 

All  this  is  not  the  work  o'  shipwrackcd  people. 
It's  some  festive  picnickers,  engaged  in  wliilin 
away  a  few  pleasant  summer  days.  All  around 
you  may  perceive  the  signs  of  luxoorious  feastin. 
Here  you  may  see  all  the  different  kind  o'  shell- 
fish that  the  sea  produces.  Yonder  is  a  luxoori- 
ous camp.  But  don't  mind  what  1  say.  Go  an 
call  the  occoopant,  an  satisfy  yourselves." 

Captain  Corbet  walked  with  the  boys  over  to 
the  tent.  His  words  had  thrown  a  fresh  dejection 
over  all.  They  felt  the  truth  of  what  ho  said. 
These  remains  spoke  not  of  shipwreck,  but  of  pleas- 
"ure,  and  of  picnicking.  It  now  only  remained  to 
rouse  the  slumbering  owner  of  the  tent,  and  put 
the  usual  questions. 

Bart  was  there  first,  and  tapped  at  the  post. 

No  answer. 

He  tapped  again. 

Still  there  was  no  answer. 

He  raised  the  canvas  and  looked  in.  He  saw 
the  mossy  interior,  but  perceived  that  it  was  empty. 
All  the  others  looked  in.  On  learning  this  they 
turned  away  puzzled. 

"  Wal,  I  thought  so,"  said  Captain  Corbet.  "  They 
jest  come  an  go  as  the  fancy  takes  'em.  They're  off 
on  Cape  d'Or  to-day,  an  back  liere  to-morrer." 

As  he  said  this  he  seated  himself  near  the  tent, 
and  the  boys  looked  around  with  sad  and  sombre 
faces. 

It  was  now  about  half  past  five,  and  the  day  had 


i-ii. 


THE   FOG    HAD   LIFTED. 


303 


dawned  for  some  time.     In  the  east  the  fog  had 
iilted,  and  the  sun  was  shining  brightly 

"I  told  you  thar'd  be  a  change,  boys/'  said  the 
captain.  , 

As  he  spoko  there  came  a  long  succession  of 
«harp,  shnll  blasts  from  tlio  fog  horn  of  tl,o  Ante- 
'>po,  winch  started  every  one,  and  „,ade  thorn  run 
to  tlie  rising  gronad  to  fine'  out  the  cause 


304 


LOST  IN  THE  FOG. 


XXII. 

Astounding  Discover?/.  —  The  loliole  Party  of  Ex- 
2)lorers  overivhelnied.  —  Meetliaj  ivlfh  the  Lost. 
—  Captain  Corbet  improves  the  Occasion.  —  Con- 
clusion. 


}T  the  sound  from  the  Antelope  tliey  liad  all 
started  for  the  rising  ground,  to  see  what  it 
might  mean.  None  of  them  had  any  idea 
what  might  be  the  cause,  but  all  of  them  felt  star- 
tled and  excited  at  hearing  it  under  such  peculiar 
circumstances.  Noi-  was  their  excitement  lessened 
by  tlie  sight  that  mot  their  eyes  as  they  reached 
the  rising  ground  and  looked  towards  the  schooner. 
A  change  had  taken  place.  Wlien  they  had  left, 
Solomon  only  had  remained  behind.  But  now  there 
were  two  figures  on  the  deck.  One  was  amid- 
ships. The  schooner  was  too  far  away  for  them  to 
see  distinctly,  but  this  one  was  undoubtedly  Sol- 
omon ;  yet  his  gestures  were  so  extraordinary  that 
it  was  difficult  to  identify  him.  He  it  was  by 
whom  the  blasts  on  the  fog  horn  were  produced. 
Standing  amidships,  he  held  the  fog  horn  in  one 
hand,  and  in  the  other  he  held  a  battered  old  cap, 


SOLOMON  EXECUTES  A  DOUBLE-SHUFFLE.   305 


which  supplied  the  place  of  the  old  straw  hat  lost 
at  Quaco.  After  letting  off  a  series  of  blasts  from 
the  horn,  he  brandished  his  cap  wildly  in  the  air, 
and  then  proceeded  to  dance  a  sort  of  complex 
donble-shuflle,  diversified  by  wild  leaps  in  the  air, 
and  accompanied  by  brandishings  of  his  hat  and 
fresh  blasts  of  the  horn.  But  if  Solomon's  appear- 
ance was  somewhat  bewildering,  still  more  so  was 
that  of  the  other  one.  This  one  stood  astern.  Sud- 
denly as  they  looked  they  saw  him  hoist  a  flag,  and, 
wonder  of  Avonders,  a  black  flag,  —  no  other,  in 
short,  than  the  well-known  flag  of  the  "  B.  0.  W.  C." 
That  flag  had  been  mournfully  lowered  and  put 
away  on  Tom's  disappearance,  but  now  it  was 
hoisted  once  more ;  and  as  they  looked,  the  new 
comer  hoisted  it  and  lowered  it,  causing  it  to  rise 
and  fjxU  rapidly  before  their  eyes. 

Nor  did  the  wonder  end  here.  They  had  taken 
away  the  only  boat  that  the  schooner  possessed  in 
order  to  come  ashore,  leaving  Solomon  alone.  They 
had  noticed  no  boat  whatever  as  they  rowed  to 
land.  But  now  they  saw  a  boat  floating  astern  of 
the  Antelope,  with  a  small  and  peculiarly  shaped 
sail,  that  now  was  flapping  in  the  breeze.  Evi- 
dently this  boat  belonged  to  the  new  comer.  But 
who  was  he  ?  How  had  he  come  there  ?  What 
was  the  meaning  of  those  signals  with  tliat  pecu- 
liar flag,  and  what  could  bo  the  reason  of  Solomon's 

joy  ? 

They  stood  dumb  with  astonishment,  confused, 
20 


306 


LOST  IN  THE   FOG. 


and  almost  afraid  to  think  of  the  one  cause  that 
each  one  felt  to  be  the  real  explanation  of  all  this. 
Too  long  had  they  searched  in  vain  for  Tom,  —  too 
often  had  they  sunk  from  hope  to  despair,  —  too 
confident  and  sanguine  had  they  been;  and  now, 
at  this  unexpected  sight,  in  spite  of  the  assurance 
which  it  must  have  given  them  that  this  could  be 
no  other  than  Tom,  they  scarce  dared  to  believe  in 
such  great  happiness,  and  were  afraid  that  even 
this  might  end  in  a  disappointment  like  cho  others. 

But,  though  they  stood  motionless  and  mute,  the 
two  figures  on  board  the  Antelope  were  neither 
one  nor  the  other.  Solomon  danced  more  and 
more  madly,  and  brandished  his  arms  more  and 
more  excitedly,  and  there  came  forth  from  his  fog 
horn  wilder  and  still  wilder  peals,  and  the  Hag  rose 
and  fell  more  and  more  quickly,  until  at  last  the 
spectators  on  the  shore  could  resist  no  longer. 

"  G-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d  ger-ra-a-a-cious  !  " 

This  cry  burst  from  Captain  Corbet. 

It  was  enough.  The  spell  was  broken.  A  wild 
cry  burst  forth  from  the  boys,  and  with  loud,  long 
shouts  of  joy  they  rushed  down  the  bank,  and  over 
the  beach,  back  to  their  boat.  Tlio  captnin  was 
as  (piick  as  any  of  them.  li<  his  entliusiasm  l»o 
forgot  his  rheumatism.  Tliero  was  a  race,  and 
tliough  he  was  not  even  with  IJrucc  and  Bart,  he 
kept  ahead  of  Pat,  and  Arthur,  and  Phil,  and  old 
Wade. 

Hurrah  1  .      '    '   . 


■■  '4 


\ 


WITH   SHRIEKS   OF   JOY   THEY   SEIZE   TOM.       307 

And  hurrah  again ! 

Yes,  and  hurrah  over  and  over ;  and  many  were 
the  liurrahs  that  burst  from  them  as  they  raced 
over  the  rocky  beach. 

Then  to  tumble  into  the  boat,  one  after  anotlier, 
to  grasp  the  oars,  to  push  her  off,  to  head  her  for 
the  schooner,  and  to  dash  through  the  water  on 
their  way  back,  was  but  the  work  of  a  few  minutes. 

The  row  to  the  schooner  was  a  tedious  one  to 
those  impatient  young  hearts.  But  as  they  drew 
nearer,  they  feasted  their  eyes  on  tlie  figure  of  tlie 
new  comer,  and  tlie  last  particle  of  doubt  and  fear 
died  away.  First,  they  recognized  the  dress  — 
the  familiar  red  shirt.  Tom  had  worn  a  coat  and 
waistcoat  ashore  at  Hillsborough  on  that  eventful 
day ;  but  on  reaching  the  schooner,  he  had  flung 
them  off,  and  appeared  now  in  the  costume  of  the 
"13.  O.  W.  C."  Tliis  they  recognized  first,  and  then 
his  face  was  revealed  —  a  face  that  bore  no  partic- 
ular indication  of  suffering  or  privation,  wliich 
seemed  certainly  more  sunburnt  than  formerly, 
but  no  thinner. 

Soon  they  reached  the  vessel,  and  clambered  up; 
and  then  with  what  shouts  and  almost  shrieks  of 
joy  they  seized  Tom  !  With  what  cries  and  cheers 
of  delight  they  welcomed  him  back  again,  by  turns 
overwdielming  him  with  questions,  and  then  pour- 
ing forth  a  torrent  of  description  of  their  own 
long  search  I 

Captain   Corbet  stood  a  little  aloof.     His  face 


308  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

was  not  so  radiant  as  tlio  faces  of  -the  boys.  His 
features  were  twitching,  and  his  hands  were  clasped 
tight  beliind  his  back.  Ho  stood  leaning  against 
the  mainmast,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Tom.  It  was  thus 
that  he  stood  when  Tom  caught  sight  of  him,  and 
rushed  up  to  shake  hands. 

Captain  Corbet  grasped  Tom's  hand  in  botli  of 
his.  He  trembled,  and  Tom  felt  that  his  hands 
were  cold  and  clammy. 

"  My  dear  boys,"  he  faltered,  "  let  us  rejice  — 
and  —  be  glad  —  for  this  my  son  —  that  was  dead 
—  is  alive  agin  —  " 

A  shudder  passed  through  him,  and  he  stopped, 
and  pressed  Tom's  hand  convulsively. 

Then  he  gave  a  great  gasp,  and,  "  Thar,  thar," 
he  murmured,  '^  it's  too  much !  I'm  onmanned. 
I've  suffered  —  an  agonized  —  an  this  —  air  — 'too 
much  !  " 

And  with  these  words  he  burst  into  tears. 

Then  he  dropped  Tom's  hand,  and  retreated  in- 
to the  cabin,  where  he  remained  for  a  long  time, 
but  at  last  reappeared,  restored  to  calmness,  and 
with  a  smile  of  sweet-  and  inexpressible  peace 
wreathing  his  venerable  countenance. 

By  this  time  the  boys  had  told  Tom  all  about 
their  long  searcli ;  and  when  Captain  Corbet  reap- 
peared, Tom  had  completed  the  story  of  his  ad- 
ventures, and  had  just  readied  that  part,  in  his 
wanderings,  where  he  had  loft  the  island,  and  found 
himself  drifting  down  the  bay.     As  that  was  the 


tom's  account  of  his  adventures. 


309 


}0 


point  at  which  Tom  was  last  lost  sight  of"  in  tliese 
pages,  his  story  may  be  given  here  in  his  own 
words. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "you  see  I  found  myself  drift- 
ing down.  There  was  no  help  for  it.  The  wind 
was  slight,  and  (he  tide  was  strong.  1  was  swe[)t 
down  into  a  fog  bank,  and  lost  sight  of  lie  Haute 
altogether.  Well,  it  didn't  matter  very  mueli,  and 
I  wasn't  a  bit  anxious.  I  knew  that  the  tide  would 
turn  soon,  and  then  I'd  come  up,  and  fctcli  tlie  land 
somewhere ;  so  I  waited  patiently.  At  last,  aftei* 
about  —  well,  nearly  an  hour,  the  tide  must  have 
turned,  and  I  drifted  back,  and  there  was  wind 
enough  to  give  me  quite  a  lift ;  and  so  all  of  a  sud- 
den 1  shot  out  of  the  fog,  and  saw  He  Haute  before 
me.  I  was  coming  in  such  a  way  that  my  course 
lay  on  the  south  side  of  the  island,  and  in  a  short 
time  I  came  in  sight  of  the  schooner.  I  tell  you 
what  it  is,  I  nearlv  went  into  fits  —  I  knew  her  at 
once.  A  little  farther  on,  and  I  saw  you  all  cutting 
like  mad  over  the  beach  to  my  camp.  I  was  going 
to  put  after  you  at  first ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  hated  the 
island  so  that  I  couldn't  bear  to  touch  it  again,  and 
so  I  concluded  I'd  go  on  board  and  signal.  So  I 
came  up  alongside,  and  got  on  board.  Solomon 
was  dov/n  below  ;  so  I  just  stepped  forward,  and  put 
my  head  over  the  hatchway,  and  spoke  to  him.  I 
declare  I  thought  he'd  explode.  He  didn't  think  I 
was  a  ghost  at  all.  It  wasn't  fear,  you  know  —  it 
was  nothing  but  delight,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 


10 


310 


LOST   IN   THE    FOC. 


you  know.  Well,  you  know,  thou  we  went  to 
work  signtilin^'  to  you,  and  lie  took  the  fog  horn, 
and  1  went  to  the  Hag,  and  so  it  was." 

"  J  don't  know  how  we  happened  not  to  sec  your 
boat,"  said  Bruce. 

"  0,  that's  easy  enough  to  account  for,"  said 
Tom.  "  1  was  hid  by  the  east  point  of  the  island. 
I  didn't  see  the  schooner  till  I  got  round,  and  you 
nuist  have  been  just  getting  ashore  at  that  time." 

During  all  this  time  Solomon  had  been  wander- 
ing about  in  a  mysterious  manner  ;  now  diving  be- 
low into  the  hold,  and  rattling  the  pots  and  pans ; 
again  emerging  upon  deck,  and  standing  to  Hsten 
to  Tom  and  look  at  him.  His  face  shone  like  a 
polished  boot;  there  was  a  grin  on  his  fico  that 
showed  every  tooth  in  his  head,  and  his  httle 
twinkling  black  beads  of  eyes  shone,  and  sparkled, 
and  rolled  about  till  the  winking  black  pupils  were 
eclipsed  by  the  whites.  At  times  he  would  stand 
still,  and  whisper  solemnly  and  mysteriousl}^  to 
himself,  and  then,  without  a  moment's  warning,  he 
A^ould  bring  his  hands  down  on  his  thighs,  nnd 
burst  into  a  loud,  long,  obstreperous,  and  deafening 
peal  of  uncontrollable  laughter. 

"  Solomon,"  said  Tom,  at  last,  "  Solomon,  my  son, 
won't  you  burst  if  you  go  on  so  ?  Vm  afraid  you 
may." 

At  this  Solomon  went  off  again,  and  dived  into 
the  hold.  But  in  a  minute  or  two  he  was  back 
again,  and  giggling,  and  glancing,  and  whispering 


SOLOMON   PREPARES   A   BANQUET. 


311 


to  himself,  as  before.  Solomun  and  Captain  Cor- 
bet thus  Iiad  each  a  difterent  way  of  exhibiting  the 
same  emotion,  for  the  feehng  that  was  thus  various- 
ly displayed  was  nothing  but  the  purest  and  most 
unfeigned  joy. 

"  See  yah,  Mas'r  Tom  —  and  chil'n  all,"  said  Sol- 
omon, at  last.  "  Ise  gwine  to  pose  dat  we  all  go 
an  tend  to  sometin  ob  de  fust  portance.  Ilyah's 
Mas'r  Tom  habu't  had  notin  to  eat  more'n  a  mont ; 
an  hyah's  de  res  ob  de  blubbed  breddern  ob  de 
Bee  see  double  what  been  a  fastin  since  dey  riz  at 
free  clock  dis  shinin  and  spicious  morn.  Dis 
yah's  great  an  shinin  casium,  an  should  be  lionnad 
by  great  and  strorny  stivities.  No^v,  dar  ain't  no 
stivity  dat  can  begin  to  hole  a  can'l  to  a  good 
dinna,  or  suppa,  or  sometin  in  de  eatin  line.  So 
Ise  gwine  to  pose  to  honna  de  cobbery  ob  de 
Probable  Son  by  a  rale  ole-fashioned,  stunnin 
breakfuss.  Don't  be  fraid  dar'll  be  any  ficiency 
liyali.  I  got  tings  aboard  dat  I  ben  a  savin  for 
dis  spicious  an  lightful  cobbery.  Ben  no  eatin  in 
dis  vessel  ebber  sence  de  loss  chile  took  his  parter 
an  drifted  off.  Couldn't  get  no  pusson  to  tetch 
nuffin.  Got  'em  all  now  ;  an  so,  blubbed  breddern, 
let's  sem'l  once  more,  an  ole  Solomon'll  now  ficiate 
in  de  pressive  pacity  ob  Gran  Pandledrum.  An  I 
pose  dat  we  rect  a  tent  on  de  sho  ob  dis  yah 
island,  and  hab  de  banket  come  off  in  fust  chop 
style." 

"  The  island  I  "  cried  Tom,  in  horror.     "  What ! 


312  LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 

the  island?  Breakfast  on  the  island?  What  a 
horrible  proposal !  Look  hero,  captain.  Can't  we 
get  away  from  this  ?  " 

"  Get  away  from  this  ?  "  repeated  the  captain,  in 
mild  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom.  "  You  see,  the  fact  is,  wlien 
a  fellow's  gone  through  wliat  1  have,  he  isn't  over 
fond  of  the  place  where  he's  had  that  to  go 
through.  And  so  this  island  is  a  horrible  place  to 
me,  and  I  can't  feel  comfortable  till  I  get  away  out 
of  sight  of  it.  Breakfast !  Why,  the  very  thought 
of  eating  is  abominable  as  long  as  that  island  is  in 
sight." 

"  Wal,  railly,  now,"  said  Captain  Corbet,  "  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  thar  was  a  good  deal  in  that, 
though  1  didn't  think  of  it  afore.  Course  it's  nat- 
ral  you  shouldn't  be  over  fond  of  sech,  Avhen 
you've  had  sech  an  oncommon  tough  time.  An 
now,  bein'  as  thar's  no  uthly  occasion  for  the  An-~ 
telope  to  be  a  lingerin'  round  this  here  isle  of  the 
ocean,  I  muve  that  we  histe  anchor  an  resume 
our  vyge.  It's  nigh  onto  a  fortnight  sence  wo  fust 
started  for  Petticoat  Jack,  and  sence  that  time 
we've  had  rare  and  strikin  vycis^toods.  It  may 
jest  happen  that  some  on  ye  may  be  tired  of  the 
briny  deep,  an  may  wish  no  more  to  see  the  billers 
bound  and  scatter  their  foamin  spray ;  some  on  ye 
likewise  may  be  out  o'  sperrits  about  the  fog.  In 
sech  a  case,  all  I  got  to  say  is,  that  this  here 
schooner'll  be  very  happy  to  land  you  at  the  nigh- 


1 

/ 


'( 


THE   ANTELOPE   FOR   PETITCODIAC. 


313 


est  port,  Scott's  Bay,  frinccnse,  from  wliirli  you 
may  work  your  wjiy  by  land  to  your  desired 
haven.  Sorry  would  1  bo  to  part  with  yc,  sj)e- 
eially  in  this  here  moment  of  jy  ;  but  ef  ye've  got 
tired  of  the  Antelope,  tain't  no  more'n's  natral. 
Wid,  now,  —  what  d'ye  say  —  shall  we  go  up  to 
Scott's  Bay,  or  will  ye  contenoo  on  to  Petticoat 
Jack,  !in  accomplitch  the  riginal  vyge  as  per  char- 
ter party?" 

The  boys  said  nothing,  but  looked  at  Tom  as 
though  referring  the  question  to  him. 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Tom,  who  no- 
ticed this  reference  to  him,  ''  it's  a  matter  of  indif- 
ference where  we  go,  so  long  as  wc  go  Out  of  sight 
of  this  island.  If  the  rest  prefer  landing  at  Scott's 
Bay,  I'm  agreed  ;  at  the  same  time,  I'd  just  as 
soon  go  on  to  Petitcodiac." 

"  An  what  do  the  rest  o'  ye  say  ?  "  asked  the 
captain,  somewhat  anxiously. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Bruce,  "  I  think  it's  about 
the  best  thing  we  can  do." 

The  others  all  expressed  similar  sentiments,  and 
Captain  Corbet  listened  to  this  with  evident  de- 
light. 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  "  and  hooray  !  Solomon,  my 
aged  friend,  we  will  have  our  breakfast  on  board, 
as  we  glide  past  them  thar  historic  shores.  Pile 
on  what  you  have,  and  make  haste." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  the  anchor  was  up,  and 
the  Antelope  was  under  way. 


314 


LOST   IN   THE   FOG. 


In  about  half  an  hour  ^Solomon  .summoned  tliem 
below,  where  he  laid  bei'ore  them  a  breakiast  that 
cast  into  the  shade  Tom's  most  elaborate  meal  on 
the  island.  With  appetites  that  seemed  to  have 
been  growing  during  the  whole  period  of  Tom's 
absence,  the  joyous  company  sat  down  to  that  re- 
past, while  Solomon  moved  around,  his  eyes  glisten- 
ing, his  lace  shining,  his  teeth  grinning,  and  his 
lips  moving,  as,  after  his  fashion,  he  whispered  lit- 
tle Solomonian  pleasantries  to  his  own  aftectionato 
heart.  At  this  repast  the  boys  began  a  fresh  series 
of  questions,  and  drew  from  Tom  a  full,  complete, 
and  exhaustive  history  of  his  island  life,  more  par- 
ticularly with  regard  to  his  experience  in  house- 
building, and  housekeeping;  and  with  each  one, 
without  exception,  it  was  a  matter  of  sincere  regret 
that  "t  had  not  been  his  lot  to  be  Tom's  companion 
in  the  boat  and  on  the  island. 

After  breakfast  they  came  up  on  deck.  The 
wind  had  at  length  changed,  as  Captain  Corbet  had 
prophesied  in  the  morning,  and  the  sky  overhead 
was  clear.  Down  the  bay  still  might  be  seen  the 
Fog  banks,  but  near  at  hand  all  was  bright.  Behind 
them  He  Haute  was  already  at  a  respectful  distance, 
and  Cape  Chignecto  was  near. 

"  My  Christian  friends,"  said  Captain  Corbet, 
solemnly,  —  "  my  Christian  friends,  an  dear  boys : 
Agin  we  resoom  the  thread  of  our  eventfool  vyge, 
that  was  brok  of  a  suddent  in  so  onparld  a  man- 
ner.    Agin  we  guUide  o'er  the  foamin  biller  like  a 


CAPTAIN   CORBP:t's   AFIDUESS. 


315 


arrcr  sliot  from  a  cross-bow,  an  culloavo  the  l^'iii)' 
main.  Wo  liavo  lived,  an  wo  liavo  sufforod,  but 
now  our  suilbrins  seem  to  bo  over.  At  last  wo  have 
a  lair  wind,  with  a  tide  to  favor  us,  an  we'll  be  oil' 
Hillsborough  before  daybreak  to-niorrer.  An  now 
I  ask  you  all,  young  sirs,  do  you  feel  any  regretses 
over  the  eventfool  past  ?  1  answer,  no.  An  wan't  1 
right?  Didn't  1  say  that  that  thar  lad  would  oust 
more  show  his  sliinin  face  amongst  us,  right  side 
up,  with  care,  in  good  order  an  condition,  as  when 
shi])})cd  on  board  the  Antelope,  Corbet  master,  from 
Grand  Pre,  an  bound  for  Petticoat  Jack  ?  Methinks 
1  did.  Hence  the  vally  of  a  lofty  sperrit  in  the 
face  of  difficulties.  An  now,  young  sirs,  in  after 
life  take  warnin  by  this  here  vyge.  Never  say  die. 
Don't  give  up  the  ship.  No  surrender.  England 
expects  every  man  to  do  his  dooty.  For  him  tl^at 
rises  superior  to  succumstances  is  terewly  great ; 
an  by  presarvin  a  magnanumous  mind  you'll  be  able 
to  hold  up  your  heads  and  smile  amid  the  kerrash 
of  misfortin.  Now  look  at  me.  1  affum,  solemn, 
that  all  the  sulTerins  Pve  suffered  have  ben  for  my 
good ;  an  so  this  here  vyge  has  eventooated  one  of 
the  luckiest  vyges  that  you've  ever  had.  An 
thus,"  he  concluded,  stretching  out  his  venerable 
hands  with  the  air  of  one  giving  a  benediction,  — 
'^  thus  may  it  be  with  the  vyge  of  life.  May  all  its 
storms  end  in  calms,  an  funnish  matter  in  the  foo- 
toor  for  balmy  rettuspect.     Amen  !  " 

It  was  a  close  approach  to  a  sermon  ;  and  though 


I 


316 


LOST   IN  THE   FOG. 


the  words  were  a  little  incoherent,  yet  the  tone 
was  solemn,  and  the  intention  good.  After  this 
the  captain  dropped  the  lofty  part  of  a  Mentor, 
and  mjngled  with  tiie  boys  as  an  equal. 

This  time  the  voyage  passed  without  any  acci- 
dent. Before  daybreak  on  the  following  m'orning 
they  reached  Hillsborough,  whore  Mrs.  Watson 
received  them  with  the  utmost  joy.  In  a  few  days 
more  the  boys  had  scattered,  and  Bart  arrived 
home  with  the  story  of  Tom's  rescue. 


'/' 


I 


JEE  AND  SHEPARD'S 

O  Star  Juveniles 

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By  ELIJAH  KELLOGG. 

Lion  Ben  of  Elm  Island. 

Charlie  Bell ;   The  Waif  of  Elm  Island. 

The  Ark  of  Elm  Island. 

The  Boy  Farmers  of  Elm  Island. 

Tiie  Young  Shipbuilders  of  Elm  Island. 

The  Hardscrabble  of  Elm  Island. 

Sowed  by  the  Wind ;  or,  The  Poor  Boy's  Fortune. 

Wolf  Run ;  or.  The  Boys  of  the  Wilderness. 

Brought  to  the  Front;  or,  The  Young  Defenders. 

The  Mission  of  Black  Rifle ;  or,  On  the  Trail. 

Forest  Glen ;  or,  Tho  Mohawk's  Friendship. 

Burying  the  Hatchet;  or,  The  Young  Brave  of  the  Delawares. 

A  Strong  Arm  and  a  Mother's  Blessing. 

The  Uns'ien  Hand ;  or,  Jarae.s  Renfow  and  his  Boy  Helpers. 

The  Liv^  Oak  Boys ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  Richard  Oonstable 
Af*08.t  and  Ashore. 

Arthur  Brown,  the  Young  Captain. 

The  '/oung  Deliverers  of  Pleasant  Cove.  ,.  . 

The  Cruise  of  the  Casco. 

The  Child  of  the  Island  Glen. 

John  Godsoe's  Legacy. 

The  Fisher  Boys  of  Pleasant  Cove. 

A  Stout  Heart ;  or,  The  Student  from  Over  the  Sea. 

A  Spark  of  Genius ;  or.  The  College  Life  of  James  Trafton. 

The  Sophomores  of  Radcliffe ;  or,  James  Trafton  and  his  Bos- 
ton Friends. 

The  Whispering  Pino ;  or.  The  Graduates  of  Radcliflfe. 

The  Turning  of  the  Tide ;  or,  Radcliffe  Rich  and  his  Patients. 

Winning  his  Spurs ;  or,  Henry  Morton's  First  Trial. 

By  P.  C.  HEADLEY. 

Fight  it  out  on  this  Line ;  The  Life  and  Deeds  of  Gen.  U.  S.  Grant. 

Facing  the  Enemy ;  The  Life  of  Gen.  William  Tecvimseh  Sher- 
man. 

Fighting  Phil ;  The  Life  of  Lieut.  Gen.  Philip  Henry  Sheridan. 

Old  Salamander;  Tho  I^ife  of  Admiral  David  GlascoeFarragut. 

The  Miner  Boy  and  his  Monitor;  The  Career  of  John  Ericsson, 
engineer. 

Old  Stars :  The  Life  of  Major-Gen-  Ormsby  McKnigbt  Mltcbel. 


.By  GEORGE  MAKEFKACE  TOWLE. 
Heroes  and  Martyrs  of  Inverilion. 
Vasco  da  Gama ;  His  Voyages  and  Adventures. 
Pizarro ;  His  Adventures  and  Conquests. 
Magellan  ;  or,  The  First  Voyage  Round  the  World. 
Marco  Polo;  His  Travels  and  Adventur0s; 
Raleigh;  His  Voyages  and  Adventures. 
Drake ;  The  Sea  King  of  Devon. 

By  CAPT.  CHARLES  W.  HALL. 
Adrift  in  the  Ice  Fields. 

By  DR.  ISAAC  I.  HAYES. 

Cast  Away  in  the  Cold;  An  Old  Man's  Story  of  a  Younf^    via; 
Adventures. 

By  W.   H.  G.  KINGSTON. 

The  Adventures  of  Dicli  Onslow  among  the  Redsk 
Ernest  Bracebridge ;  or.  School  Boy  Days. 

By  JAMES  D.  McCA^^"  J^ 
Planting  the  Wilderness ;  or,  The  Pic    ^er 

By  DR.  C.  H.  PE*i.RS 

The  Cabin  on  the  Prairie. 

The  Young  Pioneers  of  the  Northw. 

By  jamej:  JE  MILI 
Tke  Lily  and  the  Cross  ;  A  Tale  of  Acadi 


By  P.  G.  ARMS'^ 

The  Young  Middy:    or,    The  Peril- 
OCacer. 


.-.dentuioa  o 


By  R.  M.  BALLANTYNE. 
The  Life  Boat ;  A  Tale  of  Our  Coast  Heroes. 


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